


A Dish Best Served Cold

by Heathersparrows



Series: Dorian and Klaus in present time series [2]
Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: Alternate Universe Present Time, Jealousy, M/M, Poison E-Mail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 04:10:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heathersparrows/pseuds/Heathersparrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian is harassed by a poison e-mailer, someone who may have to do with his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dish Best Served Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anne-Li (Anneli)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anneli/gifts).



A Dish Best Served Cold

By Heather Sparrows

A mild evening in early summer. The sun strong already, even hot where it was reflected off the house wall; Dorian on the terrace, barefoot, wearing nothing but black linen shorts and a tank top made from red silk, lounging in an adventurously curved wicker construction possibly thought of as a reclining chair, balancing a small golden notebook on his knees, busily writing. 

Klaus, quite informal in olive green shorts and a maroon tee-shirt, his feet in light sandals, sat in a sensibly shaped teak garden chair a few metres away on the pristinely manicured lawn in the shadow of a huge chestnut tree, reading a book about British tanks in World War II. From time to time he looked up and his sharp bird-of-prey eyes scanned the garden with its rosebushes full of buds, manicured lawn, hydrangeas and chestnut-trees, the facade of the two-story Victorian house, the winter garden and his lover under the green umbrella in this bloody torture instrument euphemistically called a garden chair. 

All was quiet and peaceful. Dorian’s slight tapping of the keys, the steady running of water into the basin of the small stone fountain in the middle of the lawn, the song of birds, and the steady drone of the city traffic in the background were the only sounds. The hum of a plane flying overhead, at a high altitude still. London Heathrow was far away. Sometimes the voices of playing children drifting from the nearby Hampstead Heath; the voices of excited youngsters; the slamming of car doors, a car roaring away. Nothing unusual, everything peaceful.

Klaus returned to his book.

A soft “ding” from the notebook. Apparently Dorian had finished his article for this nonsensical artsy-fartsy magazine, or he needed a distraction and checked his e-mail.

“Finished!” Dorian exclaimed, putting the notebook aside on the curved wicker construction serving as a table. (Klaus was always amazed that it actually had a plane top to put something on without watching it fall to the ground the next instant). 

Gracefully, the Earl swung his long, tanned legs off the torture rack, stretching himself luxuriously (giving a short view of a very tempting bare midriff), then came dancing over to Klaus and kissed the top of his head.

“Good.” Klaus looked up from his book.

“Fancy dinner at Ludwig’s?”

“Ja.” Klaus liked the small German restaurant. They offered excellent fried potatoes with bacon, crisp and not fatty, as Klaus preferred them; tasty Sauerbraten with red cabbage and home-made dumplings; and delicious Schweinshaxe with Sauerkraut.

“Wonderful, Darling. I’ll just change into something a bit more acceptable and be back in a jiffy. But first, let me have a quick look at my e-mail –“

After a long kiss – on the mouth this time – Dorian flitted off to his laptop again, and Klaus prepared for at least another hour of undisturbed reading, before he himself would go and change into a shirt and long trousers. 

For a moment, he enjoyed the pleasant after-effect of the kiss and suppressed a smile at Dorian’s words. “Something a bit more acceptable” would never in this life describe Dorian’s outfits, at least not in Klaus’s eyes. Although he admitted that a change of fashion and advanced age had improved matters considerably. From the start of their relationship two years ago, when he had agreed to meet up again with the Nemesis of his youth after a period of more than twenty years, he had found that Dorian’s sense of decency had developed a little over the years, but he would forever remain a gaudy butterfly. This was Dorian, and would Klaus want him different? To his amazement, he had found that the answer was a heartfelt “no” –

“Oh my dear God!”

Alarmed, Klaus looked up from his book. Dorian’s exclamation had been filled with shock and disgust. A look into his lover’s face made him jump up, sending his book flying. In an instant, he knelt next to Dorian who had bent over as if in severe pain and took him by his shoulders.

“Dorian, was hast du? Was ist los, zum Teufel?” (“Dorian, what the hell is up with you?”)

From his lover’s reaction, Klaus thought that something had happened to a member of Dorian’s family, one of his sisters or their offspring, whom Dorian adored and – in Klaus’s eyes – spoiled rotten. Klaus caught the laptop from sliding off the damned reclining chair barely in time before it would have hit the stone floor of the terrace and looked at the screen.

“Verdammte Sauerei!” (“What a bloody mess!”)

Dorian had become deadly pale and shuddered, his eyes wide open in shock.

Through the broken windshield of an obviously crashed car, a close-up on the bloodied face of the driver; head bent back at an impossible angle, long dark hair matted with blood, eyes staring unseeing at the car roof, mouth opened as if in a silent scream.

Klaus was a soldier. He had seen his share of death, and he had killed, not always with regret. Nevertheless, no dead person should be disgraced like this, he thought: a police photograph of an accident victim dragged on the internet, spread as an e-mail attachment for the cheap curiosity of some obviously sick and very bored people. Disgusting enough. However, sending a police shot of the victim of a deadly accident to someone who had been close to the dead person in question –

Klaus felt a cold rage well up. On other occasions, he had seen photographs of the man on the screen, when he had still been alive: Professor Tobias Paens, Dorian’s lover for many years. Sending this picture to Dorian –

The Earl looked up, and Klaus saw horror, disgust, pain and the same rage he felt in his lover’s eyes.

Dorian’s loud exclamation had alerted Bonham and James, who came hurrying into the garden. Klaus grimly indicated the notebook on the table with a nod of his head.

“M’lord, what – bloody hell!” It wasn’t often that Bonham cursed. 

James stared at the computer screen for a moment and then shuddered and covered his eyes.

Dorian rallied. The effort it cost him was visible, but his ancestors had faced shocks, death and disaster with a smile, and obviously he was determined to do the same.

“An utterly disgusting prank,” he said, trying to sound lightly, but his voice was trembling a little. He tried to take the notebook away from Klaus to switch it off, but the Major got up, holding it out of Dorian’s reach.

“Wait a minute. I’ll forward this e-mail to Bernhard. Maybe he can find out who’s got too much time on his hands,” he said grimly.

Dorian got up as well.

“Darling, I’d prefer to just delete it.”

“No, M’lord, ya can’t ignore this no longer!” Bonham protested.

“If we find out who sends these nasty e-mails, we could sue him, Milord,” James agreed.

Klaus frowned.

“There have been more e-mails of this sort?”

Dorian nodded. 

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“But nuffin’ as nasty as this ‘ere, so far,” Bonham added.

Klaus’s frown intensified. He looked at Dorian, waiting for an explanation.

Dorian sighed.

“Actually it was James who found them. He needs access to my business e-mail, so …. Yes, there were a few other e-mails, but no pictures. Just the stupid things an envious, bored or just plain mean person would write. That I was full of myself without any reason, but I’d see what would come of it; that I thought I could push people around like pawns on a chessboard, and how I’d like to be such a pawn myself - things like this. I get such e-mails from time to time, but I normally ignore them. After a while, the e-mailers give up – but I never had an e-mail that disgusting.”

“I told you to have them checked, Milord! I told you!” James repeated, but no one listened to him.

Klaus sat down again, laptop on his knees, and prepared to forward the e-mail, cursing about the computer’s touchpad.

“Well, this here is a bit stiff to be just ignored.” He tapped in his son’s e-mail address. “I don’t like it.”

“’E’s roight, M’lord,” Bonham said.

“We should definitely sue, if we find out who did this,” James chimed in.

“I’ve got the nasty feeling this isn’t just some idiot with too much time on his hands, sending disgusting pictures around at random, wanking off at the thought of how many people he shocks,” Klaus went on, taking out his mobile. “You haven’t by chance saved the other e-mails?”

Dorian spread his hands in a “how-could-I-have-known?” gesture. 

“I saw no reason to keep them.”

Klaus didn’t answer, because he was speaking on his mobile in rapid German: “Hallo, ich bin’s. – Gut . – Hör zu, ich hab’ dir grad’ ‘ne E-mail geschickt, die Dorian bekommen hat. – Nichts Schönes. – Kannst du zurückverfolgen, woher die gekommen ist? – Danke. – Meld’ dich.” (“Hello, it’s me. – Fine. – Listen, I just sent you an e-mail Dorian received. – Not nice. – Can you trace it back? – Thanks. Call me.”)

He terminated the call and turned to Dorian. 

“You don’t remember the e-mail addresses of the other e-mails by any chance? Why didn’t you have one of your men look into the matter?”

Dorian had wrapped his arms around himself and looked at the glazed terracotta tiles under his feet, laid out in an intricate Art Deco pattern. His blue eyes were dark with anger and sadness when he looked up and met his lover’s gaze.

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “I told you already that I haven’t given much thought to the e-mails. - Darling, could we make this less of an interrogation? And could we continue our conversation somewhere more comfortable, perhaps?”

Klaus realised he had made Dorian even more uncomfortable than he already was. The disgusting snapshot had torn up the old wound of a great and sudden loss. After all, Tobias Paens had been Dorian’s lover for a long time. 

Klaus relented.

“Of course,” he said, his voice more gentle. “Still Ludwigs’s?”

Dorian managed a smile. It looked a bit lopsided, but it was a smile nevertheless.

“Gladly, Darling. Thank you.”

“Good. I’ll ring them for a table.”

While they both showered and changed, Klaus analysed the situation: He did not think that the ugly e-mail had been sent to Dorian at random. Someone intended to hurt the Earl, someone who knew that he and Paens had been lovers. Which meant that this someone must have known or observed Dorian for some time. Someone who must really hate Dorian. It might be speculation, yes, but Klaus trusted his intuition. But nobody would hurt someone Klaus von dem Eberbach held dear without feeling serious consequences. He would find the one responsible, before he could do more harm to Dorian. And then the poison e-mailer would regret the day he or she had been born.

*****

An hour later (Dorian had changed and showered in 45 minutes, for him, a world record of swiftness) they sat at one of the small tables in the beer garden behind Ludwig’s. Herr Ludwig himself had greeted them effusively and seated them in person. Despite being dressed in moderate colours (blue jeans and a light blue shirt), Klaus noted that Dorian still turned heads, male and female. (He never attributed the head-turning to “the tall, dark, and handsome man at my side”, as Dorian had claimed when Klaus had remarked about the fact on one occasion.)

Franz, the head-waiter, brought the ordered bottle of Mosel and two glasses. After they had tasted the wine, Franz filled both their glasses, took their food orders and vanished discreetly. As it had become a bit later than planned, the restaurant and beer garden were no longer packed, although most of the tables outside were still occupied due to the lovely summer evening.

Klaus took a sip of his wine. He said nothing, waiting for Dorian to begin.

Dorian toyed with the stem of his wineglass, then put it back on the table, looking straight at Klaus.

“You are right,” he said. “After what I received today, I can no longer ignore this type of e-mails.”

“When did it start?” Klaus asked.

Dorian frowned, thinking.

“About a month and a half ago. As I said, nothing unusual so far – just one e-mail from an apparently jealous or bored person, which I deleted as soon as I saw what it was. And a month later another one – nothing unusual either.”

“Why did you open them at all?”

“They came in over my business account, made up as invoices. It was actually Jamesie who opened them. At first he was just happy that I hadn’t spent money he didn’t know about.” Again, Dorian smiled, a faint echo of his usual smile.

“The one today was sent to my private account, so I had no idea –“ he shook his head. “I thought it came from Victoria. It said ‘new pictures’ in the header, so I thought she had sent me new pictures of the kids. Instead –“

Franz approached their table, balancing a giant plate with a steak and fried potatoes with bacon in one and a huge salad bowl with smoked turkey breast in the other hand.

“Der kleine Salat kommt sofort, Herr von dem Eberbach,” (“I’ll just get the side salad, Herr von dem Eberbach,”) he said.

When the waiter had completed their order and left their table, Klaus asked: “The e-mail address – it isn’t really hers, just similar?”

“I’ve got to look at it again.” Dorian pushed his hair back from his forehead. “I’m fairly sure, though, that it isn’t.”

Klaus nodded grimly. 

Dorian took a deep breath and emptied his wine glass, then filled up Klaus’s glass and his own again.

“Let’s eat. It would be a shame to let these delicious-looking fried potatoes get cold and my wonderful salad go to waste.”

“Right!” Klaus tucked in. As a soldier, he always had slept and eaten when the opportunity presented itself.

They were still occupied with their meal when Bernhard called back.

“Internet café in London. Golders Green, to be exact,” he reported. “New e-mail account, deleted after sending the e-mail.”

“Just as I thought. The attachment?”

“Disgusting and as far as I can see not photoshopped. Seems to be the real thing.”

Klaus grunted.

“It is.”

A pause at the other end of the line.

“Don’t tell me Dorian knows the man in the picture!“ Bernhard sounded shocked.

“Yes,” Klaus said grimly. “He was his lover.”

“What?!”

“So you’ll understand why I want to have a word with the piece of shit who did this.”

“Absolutely!”

“Alright. Now we’ve got to find out where the bastard got the photograph.”

“That’s easy, Papa. You won’t believe what’s on the net!”

Klaus snorted.

“I believe that alright, my son! What I want is that you get your ass onto your computer chair and find out whether he could have gotten it from the net and if so, where it can be found!” 

Klaus’s voice had taken on the volume in which he had ordered his Alphabets around, Dorian noted. A young man at a table at the far end of the beer garden turned and stared at Klaus, who stared back stonily. Unnerved, the young man turned away again.

Dorian lifted his eyebrows at his lover’s raised voice and couldn’t help smiling. 

On the phone, Bernhard merely chuckled.

“On it, sir!”

“Good!” Klaus ended the call, ignoring his son’s amusement.

A little later, their meal more or less finished (Dorian had only eaten half of his salad), Klaus waved to the waiter. They paid and left the restaurant, but not before assuring both Franz and Herr Ludwig that the food had been excellent as usual, just a bit much for today. Herr Ludwig, knowing the Earl of Gloria’s normally very healthy appetite, looked a bit doubtful, but was too discreet to inquire further.

They decided to walk home, giving Klaus the chance to smoke a few cigarettes. He had cut back on his habit, but not given up smoking entirely.

The two men walked in silence. Years ago, on his missions, Klaus would have given a plate of fried potatoes and a whole pack of cigarettes for this silence in Dorian’s presence, but this evening it made him uncomfortable. He knew Dorian was thinking about the e-mails and about his dead lover. Dorian’s pain about his loss had been renewed today. Klaus knew that Dorian had loved the man very much, and, had Professor Paens not died, probably never would have contacted him, Klaus, ever again. 

“Someone must hate me very much, to send me this kind of picture,” Dorian said. “But who?”

Klaus lit another cigarette.

“You should know best. Hate to say it, but you’ve stepped on enough toes over the years,” he said brusquely.

Dorian’s sad look made him regret his harsh words.

“Probably,” the Earl said in a low voice.

Klaus put an arm around him.

“Let’s get home.”

“Frankly - on second thoughts, I’d still rather delete the e-mail and forget about the whole thing,” Dorian added. “I’m afraid, though, the poison e-mailer – whoever it is – won’t leave me alone.”

Klaus blew away smoke.

“This is what I think as well.” 

They had reached Dorian’s house. Klaus extinguished his cigarette, putting the stump into a small portable silver ashtray he always carried with him – a present from Dorian on his latest birthday. Then he let them into the entrance hall.

“And therefore we’ll have another look at your e-mail now.”

*****

Even though he tried to hide it as well as he could, the e-mail with the picture of his dead lover had upset Dorian very much. He felt disgusted and angry beside the renewed pain about Tobias’s untimely death. As much as he wanted to see the whole thing as a very tasteless prank, he felt deep inside that Klaus was right in advising him to take the matter seriously.

He could not shake a feeling of impending doom – a feeling he hadn’t had since – since shortly before Toby’s accident …Was something bad about to happen again – to another of his loved ones, with a little help from somebody this time?

He shuddered.

“Dorian? Bist du in Ordnung? (Are you alright?) Dorian!”

Klaus’s voice brought Dorian back to the present. It was comforting to feel him close, bending over the table, looking at the screen of Dorian’s small notebook. Klaus was there ...

“Are you alright?” the Major repeated. Dorian looked up into his worried face. 

“What? Oh yes, I’m okay,” he assured his lover. Klaus did not look convinced, but he did not argue.

“Did you check your sister’s actual e-mail address?” he asked instead.

Dorian pulled himself together and opened his address book.

“Here. Victoria’s e-mail address is ‘marvolo@softe-mail.it’, and the poison e-mailer used ‘marvolo@softe-mail.com’. Quite similar indeed. And how does the bastard know my sister’s e-mail address, which makes it possible for him to generate one looking almost the same, easy to mix up?”

“Depends on which sites on the net you visit, a kind of spy programme,” Klaus answered. “Bernhard can tell you more about such things –“

He broke off, because a melodic coda announced that new e-mail had arrived for Dorian. The address was completely unfamiliar, but he didn’t need to open the e-mail. The short message was written directly into the header: “Who will have the next accident?” There was no further text.

Dorian and Klaus looked at each other.

“It seems he now starts the real game,” Dorian finally said.

Klaus’s mobile rang.

“Gesichter des Todes, Faces of Death, Serial Killers and Their Victims, Bizarre Deaths, Necro Love, Rotten – want to hear more? These are the names of websites which all show pictures of the sort Dorian received,” Bernhard reported without any preliminaries. “No trace so far that anyone lifted the photograph from one of these websites, though. I can have another look tomorrow, but for today I’ve had enough.”

“Okay. Danke, Bernhard,” Klaus told his son. “Could you trace another e-mail?”

He heard Bernhard sigh. “Another one? Sure. Send it over.”

“Thanks.” Klaus ended the call.

“And?” Dorian asked.

“So far, Bernhard didn’t find the picture on the net.”

“Thank God. It may be strange, but I find it reassuring. It would be even more of an assault if such a photograph of Toby could be found on the net, for everybody to see.”

“Right. Send that last e-mail over to Bernhard. Berneber@yelloweb.de. “

Dorian forwarded the e-mail to the indicated address and then shut down the system and switched off his notebook.

“Done.” He looked at his watch. “Care for a nightcap, dear? Bonham bought an excellent Scotch whisky. He’s a genius in finding such treasures.”

*****  
They sat together in the so-called “morning room” which was designed in light blue colours. After the heat of the day, the night air had become refreshingly cool, almost chilly. Dorian leaned in a small récamière, watching Klaus sitting at a rosewood table nearby, where he had spread a cloth and was cleaning his Magnum. Klaus did this at regular intervals, but tonight it seemed to Dorian as if his lover showed even more diligence in his task and a grim determination Dorian had only seen in him when he prepared to do battle. It was a frightening yet reassuring sight, somehow, and cleared his confused thoughts, made it possible for him to focus. 

Klaus had been wrong. He had not only stepped on a few toes, he had hurt people. He had never talked in depth with Klaus about his life, but he would do so tonight. Deep inside, he was afraid of Klaus’s reaction, but his urge to talk was greater than his fear.

“Klaus?”

“Yes.”

Klaus looked up from his disassembled Magnum into the deep blue eyes of his lover. Dorian’s face was unusually serious. He swallowed nervously.

“You know I never had my portrait taken?”

Klaus frowned. His face expressed clearly that he thought they had other more pressing matters on their minds just now.

“So what?”

//Not the best introduction into the subject, Dorian. But it is difficult. It’s a time in my life I deeply regret.//

“Well, let me put it this way: For a while, when I woke from a night with alcohol and drugs next to a man I didn’t really want, I wished I had a portrait which would bear the traces of my self-abuse. But then there were also times when I feared to come too close to my namesake in literature.”

Klaus’s frown deepened.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Dorian sat up straight and breathed deeply.

“You know that Dorian Gray was ruthless, cold-hearted, and cruel. He took whatever he wanted, ruined people, despoiled the innocent –“

“I know the story,” Klaus brusquely interrupted him. “Get to the point!”

//Christ, why am I babbling? Why is this so hard?// 

Dorian pushed his hair back from his forehead.

“During my late teens and early twenties, I didn’t only take drugs and drink too much, I also introduced some boys my age to drugs and sex. It never took long for them to fall for me. I toyed with them for a while and then dropped them. There were some unpleasant scenes. Yes, I have broken a few hearts, and when they could not hold their cocaine or whatever, I didn’t consider this my problem. I actually was like Dorian Gray. And I am not proud of it.”

“You think someone you left in the shit thirty years ago would still bear you a grudge?” Klaus went straight to the point, matter-of-fact, without judging. Dorian was grateful. 

“I take it they were mostly from rich families who would have paid for their stupidities and hushed things up when the shit really hit the fan?”

“Yes, mostly. Most of them got over it, we still are well acquainted, friends even. But two of them, Bertie Fortescue and Fred Addlethorpe I never saw nor have heard of again. That is, I saw Fortescue with his wife and daughter at Ascot a few years ago, and he was rather unfriendly.”

Klaus abandoned his Magnum and sat down on the récamière next to his lover. He looked serious, but there still was no hint in his face that he judged Dorian in any way.

“Well, you can’t hold it against him if he’s not happy to see you. You remind him of a time in his youth he’ll most likely wish had never happened. But you think that Fortescue or the Addlethorpe guy would still hate you so much that they would do such a thing?”

“Frankly, I can’t imagine, but it must be someone I know, someone I would never think capable of sending such e-mails.”

“It won’t hurt to have a closer look at them,” Klaus said. 

“Then I will have John Paul look into the matter first thing in the morning,” Dorian answered.

“You do that,” Klaus said. “And what made you stop with drugs and drinking excesses?” he then asked.

Dorian smiled. “Bonham did. After the sad story of Caesar Gabriel’s abduction to Island Gloria. You know that I blackmailed Caesar into giving in to my advances by threatening to kill his friends who had come to his rescue.”

“You’d deserve a good beating for this,” Klaus agreed. “And even though, when I met him, the poor boy was besotted with you. How did this happen?”

Dorian smiled ruefully.

“I told you, I’m not proud of myself. It might have been a shock reaction. I never meant it, but Caesar thought I meant it. It still wouldn’t have turned out that bad, hadn’t James taken me by my word as well. He was jealous, and he chased Caesar’s friends with a gun, finally holding the girl hostage, although I had revoked my order. I don’t want to find excuses, it’s all been my fault.”

“Indeed!” Klaus commented. He went back to his Magnum on the table.

Dorian shrugged helplessly.

“You know James. I really should have known better. It was a close shave, I stopped him barely in time. But everything went well in the end.”

“Except that you traumatised three youngsters!” Klaus growled.

Dorian nodded. “I know. Bonham gave me hell for blackmailing Caesar, endangering Sugar and Leopard and involving James. He put his foot down and brought me to my senses. - You know, my father took him and his mother in when he was little and I just had been born, so we grew up together. That night, he threatened to leave, should I not become more considerate to the people around me. It was a wake-up call, really.”

“So Gabriel, Leopard and Sugar all would have a reason to be angry with you as well,” Klaus stated.

Dorian shrugged. 

“Caesar has been a close friend for decades. I see Sugar from time to time. And Leopard - you know, he’s a good-natured sort who doesn’t hold a grudge. I can’t imagine it is one of these three. It just isn’t like them. No – my guess is either Fortescue or Addlethorpe.”

Klaus grunted noncommittally. 

“There would be no harm in having John-Paul look at them as well.”

“Now, Darling, I think that’s going a bit far! I can’t spy on all my friends!”

Klaus glared at him.

“Someone who sends such photographs via e-mail must be several cards short of a full deck. Ever think that one of your friends might be dangerous? The more so, because I assume it is someone who has your confidence, someone you would never suspect. But it’s your decision. Start with the two other guys, and we shall see.”

“Will do,” Dorian promised. “Tomorrow. But for now, I want to think of something else.” He leaned against Klaus and nibbled at his ear. “Would you care for some distraction?”

Klaus snorted.

It was good to forget, not to think about the horrible picture … Perhaps he would be able to get some sleep if he exhausted himself enough …

Later, when they were lying in bed, their bodies entwined, Dorian broke the silence, bodily exhausted, relaxed, half asleep. Nevertheless, he had to bring up the subject again …

“Klaus?”

“Hmmmmm?”

“What do you think about what I told you? You know, I – I never cheated on Toby when we were together and I will never cheat on you.”

Klaus sighed. 

“I know you’ve never been an angel. Actually, you have been damn lucky that you didn’t do serious harm to anybody. As for me, I’m just glad that I don’t have to worry anymore when you visit the famous art collections of Europe and that you aren’t chasing after every attractive young man who comes close to you.”

Dorian gently bit into Klaus’s nose, secretly relieved that his lover had taken his confession so well. 

“Actually, just for training purposes, I’m thinking of stealing Johnny Depp these days.”

“Idiot.”

 

*****  
Despite the good start of the night, Klaus woke up from Dorian next to him tossing and turning, as if fighting with someone, finally falling out of the bed with a muffled scream.

//Damn!// Klaus flew up. The shine of the lamp on the bedside table showed a pale, frightened-looking Dorian sitting on the floor, trying a smile.

“Just a bad dream, Darling. It was nothing, really.”

He scrambled up from the floor, stumbled into bed again. Klaus pulled the light duvet closer around him. Dorian’s breath was still going fast, and when Klaus hugged him, he felt his sped-up heartbeat. 

“It’s alright, Darling, just a moment …” Dorian murmured, putting his head against his lover’s chest. “Just a silly nightmare – but it was so vivid!”

“Care to talk about it?”

“Yes. - There was an exhibition of sketches by John Singer Sargent, I believe at the National Portrait Gallery, and I had found myself looking at Sargent’s sketch of the young Ernest Thesiger . He was a theatre actor,” Dorian explained at Klaus’s questioning look.

“The portrait actually exists. It shows him as a lightly rakish, intelligent-looking youth, whom I’d wanted to have met.” He smiled faintly. “And then Toby came up to me. – Have you ever met dead people in your dreams, Klaus, and you are very happy to see them, but at the same time you know they are irrevocably gone?”

“Sometimes, yes,” Klaus admitted. “I know what you mean.” 

“Toby was stern and serious, as he always had been with his students, but rarely with me,” Dorian continued. “‘Be careful,’ he said, and then turned and vanished into the crowd of visitors. I wanted to run after him, hold him back, ask him what he was warning me about, but then I suddenly remembered that I had brought James along. He was nowhere to be seen. I became afraid and searched for James, knowing at the same time that I would not find him, that something had happened to him, and I felt guilty that I had not kept an eye on him. Then I tried to call you on my mobile, Klaus, but the line was dead!”

“Typical nightmare situation.” Klaus stroked his lover’s hair.

Dorian cuddled closer to him. “Again, I looked for James, called for him in the exhibition rooms, which suddenly had become deserted. Tobias was gone. And then I found himself in front of Thesiger’s portrait sketch again, but it wasn’t Thesiger in the sketch any more, it had been replaced by a figure I could not identify, although the person in the sketch seemed vaguely familiar. And then the - the image came to life, arms and hands reaching out of the frame, trying to strangle me! – Of course it’s all nonsense,” Dorian finished.

Klaus shrugged.

“In any case, it reflects the situation. You had a nasty shock, and you fear for your loved ones – “

“And probably, I have good reason to do so,” Dorian finished the sentence.

“Nevertheless, you must get some rest,” Klaus admonished him. “Being tired will make you less alert!”

“Sir – yes, sir!” Dorian whispered and lay down again. 

It was already dawning, however, and the first birds had begun to sing, before Klaus heard from his lover’s regular breaths that Dorian had fallen asleep again.

 

*****  
You have always fascinated me. This may not be new to you. I think people fawned over you all your life. You take it as a tribute due to you. But I should have kept my distance.

Only two men I know about never worshiped at your feet: One is the German soldier and the other was that physics professor who met such an untimely end.

I thought his death would have sobered you. So I did what I should never have done. You can be so unbelievably alluring and fascinating when you set your mind to it! 

Everything was fine as long as it lasted. We found something in common in our interest for unusual exercise – climbing, knife-throwing. We both love old films and good food – and good sex. 

After Professor Paens was dead I was good enough to keep the nightmares away – not that I think I made a good job of it. I don’t say I’m good at relationships, but I tried my best. Apparently, though, it wasn’t good enough for Mr High-and-Mighty. I should have known better.

You sent me on my way. My feelings be damned. No one is good enough for you. I should have known better. Right from the beginning. You would even have left Paens hadn’t he died in an accident, and in time you will even leave the German you have been running after for so long.

We laughed together. I did not show my pain. After all, we could still be friends, couldn’t we? But I could not. I know for how long you have been pushing people around like pawns on a chessboard. 

You never took me seriously. Just because I may not look the part, I have no right to be sensitive, easily hurt? You should have noticed that I have my pride. Yes, I bit down on my tongue and hid my feelings. After all, I’m an expert at playing the good buddy.

But I’m burning inside, I need to vent. Maybe writing you angry e-mails anonymously is stupid, but you would delete them anyway if you knew they came from me.

I can’t deny that I’m angry, bitter and hurt, because the breakup came out of nowhere. I should have seen it coming, though. Oh, I can hide my real feelings well – I have a lot of experience, after all - but inwardly I rage. In the end you hurt everybody who is with you. And I hate you for it. 

I found the photograph of Paens by accident. Sure, I visited pages on the net showing people who’d met violent deaths, looking at the grisly photographs to calm my anger – but I never thought of finding his photograph there. Anyway – maybe the picture will shake you out of your egocentric, careless walking over other peoples’ feelings. Look at the picture! Does it hurt to see that he met a painful death? I hope so. You shall feel pain, too!

Sweet dreams …

*****  
The next afternoon, Klaus had to leave for Germany again, although he was unwilling to leave Dorian just now. But he was a guest lecturer at the Hochschule der Bundeswehr, the University of the German Army, and he had to prepare a few lectures for their summer school. 

In the morning, he had found a text message from Bernhard, regarding the second e-mail: “Same procedure. E-mail account freshly opened, deleted afterwards. Internet café in Knightsbridge. Grüße (regards)! B.”.

Dorian would have liked to accompany his lover to Germany, but he, too, had other commitments, like opening an exhibition at his art gallery, as well as attending a few vernissages and some auctions in London. He would be busy, but Klaus hoped he would also be vigilant. The last e-mail had been a thinly veiled threat. Klaus knew Dorian was not easily intimidated (had he been, he would never have dared to court a certain fierce NATO Major), and he knew the Earl could look out for himself. He hoped Dorian would be wary of some of his so-called friends, though.

They managed a short phonecall every day, and each time Dorian reported there had been no further nasty e-mails. On Dorian’s orders, John-Paul had spied on Fortescue and Addlethorpe. Fortescue apparently had left his family for a young lady half his age, and Addlethorpe lived in the Bahamas with a group of younger men. So, both were unlikely candidates for the poison e-mails, because they were very much occupied otherwise, and Dorian doubted that the former Mrs Fortescue knew anything about her faithless ex-husband’s affair with a certain Earl of Gloria almost thirty years ago. He also told Klaus that Caesar Gabriel and his husband Ulyxes, a doctor of philosophy, had been over at House Gloria for tea and supper, and it had been a thoroughly pleasant afternoon and evening. 

“He absolutely doesn’t behave strangely in any way, Darling. And Caesar never could lie very well. Oh, and his husband is a dear soul. A bit vain, but very sweet.”

Klaus snorted. Despite being so shaken by that strange dream of his, Dorian seemed much too easily prepared to absolve so-called friends who appeared highly suspicious to a former spy-master.

“Anyway, it wont’ hurt to have them monitored a little,” he commented. “And don’t forget about Sugar Plum and Leopard.”

“Ah yes, dear. But I think you suspect the wrong people here. I – I don’t feel comfortable with having my men going after them.”

“You are not taking this seriously enough,” Klaus warned.

Dorian sighed.

“Just feeling guilty doesn’t take them off the hook!”

“Yes, Darling. – Any news about the photograph?”

“Bernhard has researched several websites on the net to find out whether the police photograph has been taken from there, and he found out where it had been, although the owner of the site has taken it down meanwhile. So it’s no longer on the net. He has also shown the photograph to that friend of his who knows a lot about digital photograph manipulation. Seems to be genuine.”

He heard Dorian take a deep breath.

“Oh. One thing is good. The other is most unfortunate.”

“It’s a goddamned fucking mess, that’s what it is! But they have reported the site showing the picture.”

“Good that the photograph has been taken down meanwhile. It’s better to know that – that Tobias is not exposed to thrill-seeking strangers in – in his death.”

“I think so, too. - Have to go now, sorry. Take good care. I’ll be back with you next month.”

“Bye, Darling. Love you. Phone same time tomorrow?”

“An hour later. Have to drive to Eberbach in the afternoon.”

“Oh, alright, bye then. Love you.”

“Bye.”

Klaus ended the call.

*****

The more weeks passed without Dorian reporting news from the poison e-mailer, the more Klaus wished he had worried in vain, and the e-mails to Dorian had actually been the tasteless joke of someone who in the end had lost interest, his gut feelings, however, told him otherwise. Despite his worries that Dorian still did not take the whole thing seriously enough, he knew that his lover would be clever enough to keep his eyes not only on e-mails but also on unusual occurrences around the neighbourhood. Here Dorian also reported that all was quiet.

Every four weeks, Klaus flew over to London for a long weekend. Of course, Dorian tried to be free for him then, but sometimes his schedule wouldn’t allow him to meet Klaus at the airport. On such occasions Klaus took the tube into town, as he did this time. He knew that Dorian would be at a meeting with some artsy-fartsy vernissage types during the afternoon and early evening, so he took his time.

It was about eight p.m. when he let himself into Dorian’s townhouse. Bonham greeted him with a large cup of Nescafé just as Klaus liked it: black as tar, almost of the same texture, and very hot. It had become a welcome habit, but Klaus found Dorian’s second-in-command a tad nervous this time when he placed the cup on the table.

“What’s the matter, Bonham?”

“M’lord won’t be long now,” Bonham answered evasively, just as James appeared in the doorway, his face dark and brooding, as if the stock market had crashed again.

“Yes, he has gone out – and he took her along!” he stated ominously. “She sleeps in his bed, too!”

Klaus raised a questioning eyebrow. It seemed that new developments had occurred during his absence from the Gloria household he had not been informed about after all. Obviously this was an “I’ll-tell-the-Major-in-person” thing. Klaus didn’t think that “she” was a human being. Knowing Dorian’s sexual interests exclusively focussed on his own sex and his needs well taken care of, he supposed that “she” referred to a painting or a statue – and probably not a legally acquired one –

//Dammit! He’s gone after the Mona Lisa again!//

\- but then, taking “her” for a walk and having “her” sleep in his bed?! Hardly a painting or a statue, or Dorian must have lost his marbles completely, which Klaus sincerely doubted.

He glared at Bonham, demanding information.

“What the fuck is he blabbering about?!”

“M’lord didn’t tell you?” Bonham gave a bad performance of feigned innocence.

“He’s got only eyes for her!” James complained, before Klaus could explode into Bonham’s face. “Only expenses – food, blankets, toys, leashes, collars – and everything from the most expensive shops, of course!” he wailed.

Deceivingly calm, Klaus took a sip of his Nescafé.

//What the hell has he acquired now?//

“Toys, leashes, and collars,” he repeated, looking at Bonham. “Well?”

Bonham looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“Well, ‘she’ ‘d be a dog, Maijor,” he finally explained. “Still a pup, see? Ya can’t resist ‘er, really.”

“Bah!” sniffed James and left the room.

“What kind of dog?” Klaus asked. Dorian and Bonham had foreseen correctly that he was not too happy about Dorian buying a dog on a whim. Of course, Dorian could do what he wanted, but Klaus was damn sure it wasn’t a sensible choice of dog.

“An Irish Wolfhound. Bit big, yes –“

The front door opened. Dorian appeared in the doorway, sensibly clad in blue jeans and a pilot jacket with matching brown boots, and something big and grey with a red collar pushed past him and assaulted everyone in the room, jumping up at chests, trammelling them with big paws, trying to lick faces and hands, tail wagging wildly.

Klaus grabbed the bundle of energy by its front paws, looking grimly when the dog tried to wiggle free.

“No,” he said. “No, you don’t.”

The young Irish Wolfhound barked and tried to lick Klaus’s nose at the same time.

“You need to be trained thoroughly,” Klaus said. “I hope, Dorian has registered you already for obedience training.”

The Irish Wolfhound barked again and wriggled wildly, so Klaus carefully released its front paws. Now the young dog jumped up at Dorian, then at Bonham.

“Now, ya come wiv me, girlie, toime for yer supper,” Bonham said and took the grey whirlwind away.

Dorian kissed Klaus on the cheek. His eyes sparkled.

“Isn’t she beautiful? Her name’s Gucci.”

“Gucci,” Klaus repeated, his face deadpan.

//What the fuck?!//

“And what gave you the idea to buy a dog all of a sudden?” he asked his lover.

“Ah, I’ve wanted a dog for ages,” Dorian said. “But it never came to pass. Now it so happened that Lady Aspen’s Belle du Jour had a new litter, and I grabbed the chance and bought one of the puppies. And isn’t she wonderful?”

“You know quite well she isn’t my idea of a dog,” Klaus answered, frowning. “James said you let her sleep in your bed.”

Dorian’s smile would have disarmed Mars himself. 

“You know James, Darling. He’s jealous.”

“Does she sleep in your bed?” Klaus asked grimly.

Dorian’s smile became definitely dazzling.

“She is just a puppy, after all.”

“You spoil her,” Klaus growled. 

“Are you jealous, too?” Dorian’s smile could have melted iron.

“Nonsense. I’m just not keen on dogs in my bed. It’s not hygienic.”

Dorian kissed him on the mouth.

“I promise she will sleep in Bonham’s room. On the rug. Even if James won’t be happy, as he shares Bonham’s room.”

“Very well.” Klaus relented. After all he knew Dorian. He should be glad that a man who even had ornamented skeleton keys and throwing knives had bought an Irish Wolfhound and not a Chihuahua. 

“Just don’t spoil her and train her well.”

“I will,” Dorian promised. “Care for another Nes, Darling? I definitely need some tea. I’m parched.” He sauntered off into the kitchen, calling from there: “And now tell me, Darling, how has your month been?”

Klaus followed his lover into the kitchen.

“Not bad, except for some students to whom discipline is a swearword. And some of the agents in training think they are fucking James Bond! They’ve definitely watched too many goddam movies! – And what about your month?”

“Ah, pretty uneventful. I went to Amsterdam, as you know, to have a look at a Vermeer the Rijksmuseum bought, I attended that Klabusch vernissage, bought a group of shepherds by Boucher – then there was that finissage of the Warhol exhibition. And I bought Gucci, of course. Her kennel name is ‘Di Boccio’s Goodbye Mr Chips’. – Fancy a bite at Gioaccino’s? I’m starving.”

“Yes.”

They had a nice evening at Gioaccino’s. Klaus had found out a while ago that he liked Spaghetti Ligure – with extra hot chilli sauce – almost as much as fried potatoes. The restaurant owner was part of the family – Volovolonte’s second cousin – and he loved to treat them to his excellent cuisine.

Dorian’s appetite definitely had come back, and after an evening of conversation in rapid Italian, he was still chatting happily away about the dog school where he had registered Gucci. 

“Our first lesson will be on Monday. I’m so much looking forward to it. – I’ve got to go for a walkie with her, dear, fancy coming with us? It would be great if she came to know you better, too.”

“Sure.”

Klaus was glad that Dorian was his usual chatty self again. 

//Would be too good to be true if the poison e-mailer just had lost interest.//

Gucci was happy to see them both again and brought a squeaky toy which she chewed energetically. Klaus had already thrown a tennis ball for her in the garden, as long as it wasn’t fully dark yet, while Dorian had dressed for lunch, now he patiently wrenched the squeaky bone out of her needle sharp teeth again and again and threw it. Gucci unerringly brought it back every time to have it wrenched out of her teeth again, until Dorian, who had changed into boots, an old jeans and a light sweater, came down.

They went to Hampstead Heath, Gucci of course biting into the leash, shaking it wildly, running around the two men, jumping up at them, binding them with the leash, but finally dropping her penny like a good girl.

When they came home, she was tired enough to climb into her big basket, curl up and sleep. True to his word, Dorian asked Bonham to take her to his room when he retired.

“Sure thing, M’lord. Oi’ll take ‘er for the noight.”

James, who had been reading the Financial Times, got up. He gave Dorian a reproachful, Bonham a contemptuous look from under the fringe of his dark curls. Then he sniffed haughtily, threw his head up and left the room, slamming the door behind him so hard it opened again.

“Oi!” Bonham called after him, but James stomped up the stairs without looking back. 

“James!” Dorian called up the stairs, hands on his hips.

James ignored them. Another door slammed.

Klaus lit a cigarette. 

“What the fuck was that?”

Bonham sighed.

“Sorry ‘bout that, M’lord, Maijor, but you know ‘ow ‘e is when ‘e’s bein’ difficult.”

Dorian shook his head.

“I don’t like his attitude towards Gucci at all,” he said. “She’s been here for three weeks now, and still he refuses to have anything to do with her and behaves like we betrayed him. – Sorry for the trouble, Bonham, but I never thought he would become that insufferable. I’ll have a serious word with him tomorrow, but for tonight he can stew in his own juice, for my part!”

“Oi’ll ‘ave a look at ‘im laiter,” Bonham promised. “’T won’t be any good at the moment, but in one or two hours ‘e should’ve cooled ‘imself off a little.”

“You do that, Bonham. Thanks again for taking Gucci. – And you – you’ll be a good doggie and let Bonham rest, do you hear? Then we’ll go for a nice walk tomorrow.” He cuddled the dog and returned to Klaus, who had watched the whole domestic scene shaking his head.

“Deary me, is James being difficult!” Dorian continued. “He hasn’t been like that in years, what do I say, decades!” Dorian gave an exasperated huff. “He threw tantrums when I met Toby, yes, and - and also when we two got together again. But he hasn’t been this strange since – but no!”

Klaus folded the paper he had been reading.

“Since?” he prompted.

“Since I took Caesar Gabriel to Island Gloria,” Dorian said reluctantly.

*****  
James stomped up the stairs to his room, which originally had been designed as a storage space for suitcases, bags, and hat boxes right under the roof. He did not switch on the naked bulb hanging from the ceiling, just threw himself down on his mattress, staring into the darkness, at the brighter quadrangle of the small attic window.

Life was miserable, but not in a good way. These days, Milord only had eyes for the Horrible Major and this smelly, noisy oversized bed rug, which only brought dirt into the house and destroyed expensive shoes and carpets. Milord didn’t like him, James, any more. Not at all. Just this monster dog which ate costly special food in huge quantities, and you stumbled over her expensive toys in every corner. And how fast she destroyed them! Shoes and clothing as well. And everybody, everybody liked her anyway! Just today, Jones had said something like “Uh-oh, Gucci’s been at a shoe again,” holding up a half-eaten shoe. “Or is it one of yours, James?” Asshole. 

Sure, unlike other people, he wore his shoes and clothing until they fell apart, but this had not been one of his shoes. As if he would leave his shoes lying around in the hall! It had been the damned dog, of course. Only last week she had chewed on an Italian slipper of a pair which had been handmade for Milord in Milan at an exorbitant price – and Milord had just laughed! This dog was worse than all the two-legged creatures which had been creeping around Milord since James knew him. At least they seemed to appreciate the precious gifts Milord had given them – clothes, jewellery, cars, and what else. Anyway, at least they had not destroyed them by chewing on them. 

And that terrible, ugly professor with his greasy hair, hooked nose and piercing dark eyes had earned his own money and had given Milord gifts, too. As did the Horrible Major. Not that most of them were suitable for selling them somewhere, should Milord no longer want them, but anyway. 

This dog, however – useless! Other dogs at least protected their masters and guarded their masters’ properties, but this creature here – no such thing!

And they all gathered around her anyway, played with her, petted her. Milord, John-Paul, Jones, Bonham. Even the Horrible Major had not demanded she be given away immediately, as James had silently hoped. He even had petted her, too. She slept in Milord’s bed when the Major wasn’t there, and Bonham – now Bonham had taken her to his room. Now even Bonham didn’t want him, James, in his room any more...

He sniffed, scrambled over the mattress into the right-hand far corner of the room, where the loose floorboard was, pushed it up with the biggest blade of his pocket knife and took out the heavy plastic bag with his pennies. The dim moonlight was bright enough for him to count the coins again: one hundred and fourteen pounds and twenty-three pence, right.

Normally, counting his change relaxed him, but tonight he was too sad and upset. Bonham a traitor as well ... Even Bonham preferred that slobbering dog and didn’t like him, James, any more ... That really hurt, and he could not stop thinking about it.

Well, for how long had he known Milord and Bonham? He had been a street urchin of fifteen when he had tried to steal from Milord – the right one he had chosen to steal from - James had to smile against his will, remembering. It had been thirty years ago, last December. Milord then had sent him to school, he had learned bookkeeping and calculation, the secrets of banking, accountancy, and the stock exchange, and for twenty-four years, he had guarded and increased Milord’s fortune against all of Milord’s attempts to squander it away. It had become even harder since Milord had given up the Eroica business. Twenty-four years of good service – Milord had never been very grateful, had quickly taken him for granted – after a few weeks, their official relationship had ended, and a succession of pretty young men had followed, most notable the wunderkind, the teenage scholar. 

Then the chase after the Horrible Major around the globe – and how expensive this all had been! Then Milord’s car accident, which had all of them sick with worry, apart from the overpriced car, which had been reduced to a heap of scrap. The news that the Horrible Major had married a woman. On hearing this, Milord hadn’t been himself for months. 

But finally he had met that ugly professor with his sharp eyes and acid tongue, killed in a stupid accident when the brakes of his car had failed. Again, Milord had given them a lot to worry about … Nevertheless, James would never have thought he would be grateful to meet the Horrible Major again, but as he finally had succumbed to Milord’s advances, everybody seemed to be happy. What did Milord need a dog for now?

James came to the conclusion that he had enough. If even Bonham turned his back on him, why stay with this ungrateful bunch of men any longer? – Would Milord be at least a little sad when he’d find out in the morning that he, James, was gone? Would he miss him at least one little bit, after all these years of service as an accountant?

Milord had never shown any sense for money, just for stupid pictures and sculptures, vases and furniture – for which other people paid exorbitant sums on the black market, granted – or the real owners had paid these sums to get their precious painting or sculpture back. But no, Milord wouldn’t miss him before the next tax declaration was due, James decided.

And Bonham, his lover for how long now? – Twenty-five years for sure – would Bonham miss him? Well, maybe, but it would be too late, James decided. That would suit him right, preferring a stupid dog over his lover of twenty-five years! John-Paul and Jones wouldn’t shed a tear either. He’d had it with them all. 

He would pack his few things together, wait until everyone was asleep and then leave, James decided. He knew a few members of the Rogues’ Gallery, who would gladly take him in as an accountant and would be grateful for his services. He would contact all of them and see who would offer him the best salary.

Smiling at this thought, he listened to the sounds in the house. He heard John-Paul and Jones in the kitchen, the fridge door, one of them laughing. He listened for steps, Milord’s or Bonham’s coming up to his door – and right, there was Bonham’s steady step – 

James jumped up and turned the key in the lock. No! He was angry with Bonham. 

A knock at the door.

“Jaimes? Are you asleep, Maite? 

James sat rigid, arms crossed, and didn’t make a sound.

“Jaimes? Please open up. Let’s ‘ave a talk.”

James pressed his lips together and covered his ears with his hands. No! He didn’t want to talk to Bonham. And he didn’t want to listen. Milord hadn’t found it necessary to look in on him...

After a long while, he removed his hands and listened. All was quiet. Bonham had given up and gone away.

James sniffed again, switched on the light and took a backpack from a corner, threw in his change, his blanket, a few pieces of underwear and socks, his three shirts, two towels and three washcloths (Ainsbury Park Hotel). Smiling, he switched off the light again and leaned back on his mattress, using his backpack as a headrest. 

Steps coming up the stairs again, but they went down the corridor two stories below, to Milord’s suite. Then Bonham’s steps as well, accompanied by the pat-pat-pat of paws on the carpet and the scratching of claws on wood, the familiar creak of the door to Bonham’s room – James’s eyes filled with tears. Bonham going to bed, and the dog coming with him ... Manfully, he suppressed the urge to go down one flight of steps, knock on Bonham’s door and cuddle in next to his lover. This was a thing of the past.

Soon he would go away ... But he hadn’t heard John-Paul and Jones go to bed yet. Their room was on the same floor as Bonham’s. Damn, would they ever retire for the night? He would have to wait a little longer...

… “Waff, waff, waff!”

Mumbling from Bonham’s room.

“Waff, waff, yip!”

James woke with a start. It was light already. Damn! It was morning again. He had nodded off and missed the chance to leave the house unnoticed.

More mumbling from Bonham’s room just beneath James’s chamber. More yipping from the infernal dog, then Bonham whispering “Shh, quiet, gel.”

The dog apparently jumping around, still yipping, steps on the stairs, tap-tap-tap, the scratching of claws on wood again, more mumbling, farther away.

//Bonham’s taking the dog for a walk. John-Paul and Jones will still be asleep. Milord likes to sleep in, too. If the Horrible Major isn’t around, I still could slip out unseen ...//

More retracting steps, more mumbling and yipping, the front door opened, then Bonham’s voice

“Oi! Gucci! Come back, gel!”

The front door slammed closed.

//The dog running away before he could get her on the leash properly? Serves him right!//

For a few heartbeats, James listened. The house remained quiet. The steady sound of the traffic was still fairly low. It was Saturday, and the Moloch London seemed to be just waking up.

On socks, shoes in hand, James tiptoed over the third landing, down the stairs to the second landing, where he stopped and listened. All quiet. John-Paul and Jones still asleep. He avoided looking at the door to Bonham’s room. 

Down to the first landing. The door to Milord’s suite still closed. No sound. Milord probably fast asleep. But where was the Horrible Major?

Ground floor. No sound from the kitchen or the morning room either. No Horrible Major. Probably out for a walk or a run.

He tiptoed to the front door and was just about to open it, when a car door slammed and hasty steps approached the door. 

James flinched and hid in a corner. Who was this, coming to their door this early? Had the Major taken one of the cars to go somewhere and now was back?

A thump, as if something was deposited at the front door, then the steps retracted, again the slam of a car door, the car roaring off at a high speed. 

James ignored a feeling that something was wrong.

//The paper,// he thought. //Quickly now, before someone wakes up or comes back!//

He opened the front door – and barely stifled a scream.

//Oh my God!//

For a moment, he was unable to form a clear thought. Then a thought formed, and it was not a pleasant one.

//They will think I -!//

He acted quickly, ran to the garden shed, pulling the tarpaulin off the old lawnmower which was rarely used now, since Milord completely unnecessarily had ordered Jones to buy a new one. Back at the front door again, he used the tarpaulin to firmly wrap up the doormat and the horrible thing on it, and half carried, half dragged the bundle through the hall, out the back door, over the terrace into the garden, far, far to the end, to the copper beeches marking the end of Dorian’s ground. 

Back to the shed for a shovel – only now he realised that he still hadn’t put on his shoes - where had he put them, anyway? - and was still wearing the backpack – he dropped it carelessly – no time for the shoes now, either. Someone shouted outside. James ignored it. He grabbed a shovel, ran back and began to dig. Deep – deep – deep –

“What the fuck is going on here? What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

James yelped and dropped the shovel. The Horrible Major, in a sports suit and trainers, hands on his hips, stood on the lawn before him. Milord just crossing the terrace, barefoot, in his red dressing gown, bleary-eyed, his hair still tousled from sleep, approaching them. 

“Why are you shouting so loud, Darling? What’s the -?” He had seen James with the shovel and fell silent, looking at him for an explanation.

Jones and John-Paul came running over the lawn, Jones still putting on a tee-shirt. And then Bonham arrived too, sweating and gasping, the leash dangling from his hand.

“Sorry, M’lord, she ran away. The bloomin’ ‘ook on the leash snapped ‘fore Oi knew it, and off she was – Oi’ve looked for ‘er ev’rywhere, but coudn’t foind ‘er. P’raps – but what’s the matter ‘ere?”

He broke off. Obviously he had taken in the group on the lawn just now – the Earl, John-Paul and Jones barefoot, apparently just out of bed, the Major in his running clothes, all of them looking at James who stood under the copper beeches, next to him a shovel and a large bundle in a cracked green tarpaulin.

*****  
The Major spoke again.

“I come home from my run, the damned front door is open and there is blood on the threshold! And then I find you digging here in the garden! What the fuck is this all about?!”

“I – I –“ stammered James. He was afraid, terribly afraid. Not only the Horrible Major, but also John-Paul and Jones, even Milord and Bonham were all looking at him bewildered, even angry, demanding an explanation.

“I – it –“ he couldn’t think coherently any more. Milord would send him away. They would all think he...

The Major brushed past him and quickly unfolded the tarpaulin.

“Was zum Teufel -?” He took a step back.

Dorian breathed in with a hissing sound. Bonham put a hand to his mouth.

“I’ll be damned,” said John-Paul, and Jones shook his head, as if to deny the horrible sight. On the tarpaulin lay Gucci, her coat matted with blood, a deep gash in her throat.

James retreated a few steps from the body and shook his head wildly.

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it, Milord, I swear! I opened the door – and there it was! I didn’t do it!” he wailed.

Dorian shook his head.

“No - I cannot believe you’d do such a thing, Jamesie,” he said. 

Sobbing, James rushed into his arms, and Dorian gently stroked his hair, rocking the small man like a child.

“T’ wasn’t me, t’ wasn’t me!” James repeated over and over.

“It’s alright, Jamesie, I believe you, do you hear? Shhh, hush now! Shhh! Calm down, dear,” Dorian said.

But James was far from calming down.

“Milord, Milord, don’t send me away! I didn’t do it! It was lying on the mat when I opened the front door!” he repeated over and over.

Dorian sighed. His anger of the previous evening had evaporated in the wake of the new events.

“Yes, dear, it’s alright. You go with Bonham now, okay? No one will send you away, do you hear?”

“Yeah, what about if we both went to the Tesco’s at the underground staition, Jaimesie? Maybe they’ve got some overripe bananas to give away.” 

Bonham, looking devastated himself, took the small, sobbing man around the shoulders and led him back into the house.

Shuddering, Dorian shook his head. He felt sickened and horrified. 

//And I had fooled myself into believing it was over ...//

Klaus bent over the dead dog. 

“Clean cut,” he said grimly. “Very sharp knife. And the bastard knew what to do! – Let’s have a look at the front door surveillance tape.”

“Right away!” Jones was obviously happy to get away from the scene, into the house, but Dorian didn’t follow them. He was still staring at the dead Irish Wolfhound, shuddering. 

John-Paul wiped his eyes.

“T’ wasn’t James, that’s for sure, but who the hell cuts a puppy’s throat?” he said angrily and covered Gucci’s body again with the tarpaulin.

“She didn’t bark too loud, so the neighbours didn’t have a reason to complain. And they never did. Must’ve been a dog-hater, then.”

Klaus, noticing that Dorian was still standing, staring at the dead dog, came back, hearing his lover’s last sentence.

“No neighbour,” he said. “And no dog-hater either.” 

He gently touched Dorian’s shoulder. The Earl flinched, as if woken up from a nightmare.

“You got an idea, then, who did it?” John-Paul asked.

“If I did, I wouldn’t be standing here, dammit!”

Dorian cleared his throat. 

“Probably this was done by the person who sent me the e-mail with –“ he didn’t finish the sentence.

“I get the picture,” John-Paul said. “Damn, damn, damn!” He scratched his head. “Should we bury her?” 

Slowly, Dorian shook his head. He felt numb, and at the same time unbelievably angry. 

//Cutting a puppy’s throat – how cowardly is this?!//

“Leave her here for the moment,” he said to John-Paul. “We’ll bury her later. Properly.”

“Let’s have a look at the tape,” Klaus repeated.

Dorian nodded. 

“I’m afraid I’ve got e-mail.”

*****  
Dorian was right. In his e-mailbox was an e-mail from c.gabriel@hopnet.uk: “Poor doggie. But it won’t be a pet next time, don’t you worry.”

Dorian rubbed his forehead and temples.

//c.gabriel – no, James didn’t kill Gucci, and neither did Caesar! I don’t believe this! This isn’t Caesar’s e-mail address! No – someone – wait and think, Dorian -// However, clear thoughts were impossible at the moment. 

“Damn you!” he said aloud. “Show yourself! Stop writing disgusting e-mails faking other people’s e-mail addresses and killing innocent pets! Come out and fight, you coward! And if you hurt someone close to me, you will learn what I can do with a knife!”

He forwarded the e-mail to Klaus’s son, then closed his laptop, got up resolutely and went over to the adjoining room, where Klaus, John-Paul, and Jones bent over the surveillance monitor.

“I got e-mail alright,” he said, his voice shaking with barely leashed anger. “This time, he used an address looking like Caesar Gabriel’s.”

“Damn!” That was Jones.

“What did the bastard write this time?” Klaus asked, looking up from the monitor. 

“He wrote I shouldn’t worry!” Dorian’s voice still shook. “The next time it wouldn’t be a pet!”

“Oh shit!” Jones again.

Klaus hissed through his teeth and nodded grimly. 

“What’s on the surveillance tape?” Dorian asked. He wanted to see the filthy bastard who had killed an innocent animal, be it the poison e-mailer himself or at least a creature hired by him. He just wanted a shape to the phantom who revelled in his misery.

“Not much, unfortunately,” Klaus growled. “Look!”

He nodded to Jones, who clicked on the screen. The image showed the street close to the house, small numbers running in the left-hand upper corner of the screen marking the time:

5.45 a. m.: Klaus, wearing a sport suit and trainers, came out the door, closed it carefully and jogged off to the left. 

6:02 a. m.: A young man on a bike which carried a heavy bag loaded with papers arrived, put a paper on the doormat, and vanished from the camera range. 

6:09 a. m.: The door opened, Bonham’s sturdy figure appeared. He took the paper from the doormat, closed the front door again. 

6:17 a. m.: Gucci on a leash, jumping around, twisting and turning, followed by Bonham. Something seemed to be wrong with the leash, because it suddenly snapped. Gucci ran off to the left, Bonham after her.

“Bonham said a rivet from the leash must have come loose, maybe by Gucci chewing on it, and the leash broke,” Dorian threw in.

“I’ll have a look at the leash anyway, later,” Klaus answered. “Now watch.”

6:27 a. m.: A figure in jeans, black trainers and a black hoodie appeared like a shadow, carrying a bundle, dumped Gucci’s body at the door, and slipped away to the right. Everything went very fast, the whole transaction lasting maybe fifteen seconds.

“Play it again,” Dorian asked. “Slow motion.”

Jones stopped, went back and replayed the scene with the figure in the hoodie in slow motion.

“Anything familiar about the bastard?” Klaus asked.

Dorian shook his head. “It was still too fast.”

Jones replayed the scene in single-frame mode, then froze the picture on the hooded figure.

Dorian shook his head again. 

“No one I could place at the moment. I couldn’t even guess if it was a man or a tall, sturdy woman. But the person carries Gucci, and she may - might - well have her fifty pounds already. Then again, he or she runs stooped, I can’t say anything about the width of the shoulders, so it could be an athletic woman as well as a man. I’m no expert in women, but I’d go for a man, though, because – it may be old-fashioned and naive, but I don’t think a woman would have cut Gucci’s throat. Besides, she most probably would have dragged the body, not carried it.”

“Could be you’re right,” Klaus said. “Jones?”

“Don’t know him either,” Jones answered. “Doesn’t look familiar. Looks like anybody”

“Alright. Show this to Bonham and James later.”

“Probably it was someone paid to do the dirty work,” Dorian said.

“Could be,” Klaus agreed. “So it will be probably no one any of you would know and be able to recognize. – Play the rest,” he told Jones.

For a few minutes, the screen now only showed the door and the threshold with its grisly load. Then, at 6:31 a. m.: James, bearing a large backpack, opened the door carefully, stopped abruptly, then ran in again, leaving the front door open.

6:32 a. m.: James appeared again with the tarpaulin, rolling the body onto it, then half carried, half dragged it inside. Again, the front door remained open.

Jones froze the image once more.

“At least we can exclude for sure that James had anything to do with killing the dog,” Dorian said. “His surprise is genuine. Besides – he would never have killed her or have paid anyone to kill her.”

“He’s too stingy for that, right,” John-Paul threw in. “If he could have gotten away with it, he would have sold her, yes. But never killed her.”

“Probably,” Klaus answered grimly. “But I could box his ears for leaving the door open! Anybody could have gotten into the house! And why was the bloody idiot wearing a backpack?!”

Dorian sighed.

“Maybe once a year, James gets the idea he isn’t appreciated enough in our household. Then he throws a tantrum, packs his things and threatens to leave.”

“Sounds like him,” Klaus grumbled.

In silence, they watched the rest of the recording. 6:38 a. m. showed Klaus, coming from his run, stopping in his tracks at seeing the open front door, then carefully gliding in. The door closed. 

Jones put on fast forward, until at 6:44 a. m. Bonham appeared, stumbling up the steps, out of wind, the leash dangling from his hands, letting himself into the house. 

Dorian breathed in sharply.

“It’s absurd – but just from the surveillance camera – it could have even been Bonham! He had the best opportunities to kill her. But then, the person in the hoodie seems to be taller and slighter than Bonham. Apart from the fact that the idea is just absurd.”

“Just from the surveillance camera, it could have been me as well,” Klaus said. 

Dorian shook his head.

“The surveillance camera doesn’t really show much. But I really wish we could get at him! After this episode here, I don’t have any hope he will just get bored and leave me alone.”

“I don’t think so either,” Klaus confirmed grimly.

Dorian wiped his face. He felt like being in a daze, in a bad dream, but slowly the reality of what had happened dawned on him. Someone was seriously intent on harming him. He – or she - had taken the dog, but he – or she, for that matter - could as easily have taken Bonham …

“I should look after Gucci. She shouldn’t lie around in the open, the poor dear. And then it’s time to have a meeting to plan what we should do.”

“With regard to the dog,” Jones said, “I know a guy workin’ at the pet crematorium. He owes me a favour anyway.”

*****  
There. Done. I feel better now, after sending off the e-mail. You only get what you deserve. For you, we are just toys. And now you get your just desserts.

I didn’t like to kill the puppy. It just had the misfortune to have the wrong owner. So trusting - so easy to catch - licked my hands, before I cut its throat. I would have rather cut the throat of the guy looking for the pup - he’s one of those closest to you, Bastard Red Gloria - but not yet. Not yet. - Why did he let the dog get away in the first place? A good opportunity for me, though. Poor puppy …

I’ll have to leave England again soon. And when I come back, I’ll go for one of your human pets. Or one of your friends first? - Who would be easiest to catch? Who is the most trusting? - Yes, it would be him, but I don’t want to involve him. - Do I still love him? Yes, I do. But he will never know. He never had any idea  
about it and he will never have. I cannot sacrifice him … not him … 

I will use the time till I return to think about whom I’ll capture …

*****

A thin, solemn-looking man in a coverall and huge, thick glasses had come and taken Gucci away. Although Jones had wanted to call in his favour, Dorian had insisted on paying for the cremation and had chosen an urn from a catalogue – Delft blue. 

James was up and about again, but still too subdued to have a fit over the expenses. He collected the dog toys that were still good, though, and the packages with Gucci’s food, as well as her blankets, her troughs, and her basket to sell them somewhere later. Dorian didn’t really care. He was rather glad he didn’t have to see the things which reminded him of Gucci any more. 

Klaus showed the surveillance tape to Bonham and James respectively, but the hooded shape didn’t ring a bell with them either.

Later in the day, the members of the household assembled in the morning room: John-Paul and Jones looking rather grim, Bonham still crestfallen, because he blamed his own carelessness with the leash for what had happened to Gucci. The leash had shown definite wear from Gucci’s teeth, a fact Klaus had confirmed after a thorough examination. It had not been tampered with, but simply had snapped when the temperamental dog strained against it.

Since no one any more suspected him of killing Gucci – if they had ever suspected him at all – James was almost his usual self again, except for the one or other worried look he threw at Bonham from time to time, when not adding something on his calculator.

He looked up when Dorian and Klaus entered, the former pale, but determined, the latter looking very grim, even for someone who had a reputation for his murderous looks.

“I got another e-mail, “ Dorian said without any preliminaries. “The poison e-mailer writes that it won’t be just a dog next time.”

“So it was the poison e-mailer that killed the dog?” John-Paul asked.

“Or someone paid by him,” Klaus said.

“A def’nite threat,” Bonham stated. “You’re def’nitely in dainger, M’lord.”

“I’m not the only one,” Dorian said, “we’re all in danger. Everybody connected to me could be in danger.” Nervously, he twisted one of his curls round his index finger, then he folded both hands on the table before him.

“Even we?” James seemed incredulous.

“’Ello – Earth to James!” Jones commented drily.

“You’ve ‘eard M’lord, Jaimesie.” That was Bonham.

“This is an unacceptable situation, of course,” Dorian continued, before James could begin to lament, “and I will have none of it.”

“But what can we do?” James wailed.

“Do you have a plan, Milord?” John-Paul asked.

“We will set a trap,” Dorian announced. 

“A trap? What kind of trap?” Bonham asked.

“Well,” Dorian continued, “if he wants to get at me, I will present a target to him. I will not be intimidated, and I don’t want my people threatened and endangered. I will send you all away to Gloria Estate and will stay here alone with two of Volovolonte’s men, Stefano and Giorgio.”

“Noooo!” James cried, while Bonham shook his head in silent protest.

“You can’t do this, Milord, just send us away!” John-Paul protested.

“We won’t leave just like that,” Jones said. 

Dorian lifted a hand for silence.

“You will go. I will not see anyone close to me hurt.”

“We’re not some schoolboys to be sent away just like that!” Jones again.

“Exactly!” John-Paul.

The Major had been silent so far, had just crossed his arms and looked grimly at Dorian. Obviously his lover hadn’t informed him about what he had announced right now. Klaus didn’t seem to agree at all, which became clear when he spoke up.

“I doubt you are his intended target this time. He is not out to kill you. Yet –“ 

Another wail from James, whom Bonham quickly hugged to shut him up.

“At this stage, the bastard just wants to play with you a little bit more. Hurt you by harming or killing someone close to you – one of his human pets, to use his words,” Klaus continued, unperturbed. “So setting yourself up as bait will probably not work.”

Dorian got up. 

“What do you have in mind, then? Don’t expect me to sit around while he’s after you, Klaus! I have lost one lover in a freak accident, and I couldn’t bear to lose another person close to me!”

“Maybe this is what he’s counting on,” Klaus said. He smiled his half-smile which for almost three decades had sent 26 Alphabets falling over themselves. “But -“

“Klaus -“

“May I finish my sentence?”

Dorian however was on a roll now.

“Do you think I cannot look after myself? Let me send my men away and I’ll catch the bastard!”

Klaus folded his arms.

“Didn’t I make myself clear?! Which part of ‘you-are-not-yet-the-target’ don’t you understand?!” he growled.

“That’s what you think! But we do not know for sure!”

“Yes! Besides, I don’t think I’m the target yet, either!”

“Then let me send Bonham, Jamesie, Jones and John-Paul away! Or do you want to endanger them?!”

“I for my part will not go,” John-Paul spoke up.

“Me neither!” declared Jones.

“I won’t go either!” James piped up. “When I leave you alone, you always buy unnecessary things!”

Bonham spoke for them all.

“We won’t leave you, M’lord.”

“But aren’t you afraid after what he did to Gucci? After hearing what he threatens to do?” Dorian was exasperated that no one of his men would see sense, although their loyalty moved him.

Jones cleared his throat.

“Milord, I appreciate your worry about us. But we won’t be sent away like children without having a say in this matter. We have been together for so long, and I believe that we’ll get through this together as well!”

“Roight!!

“Exactly!”

“I won’t go!”

“Hear, hear!” said Klaus. “It seems your motion has been overruled.” He sounded satisfied, as if he hadn’t expected Dorian’s men to decide otherwise.

Dorian shrugged, then folded his arms in front of his chest.

“So - if you all don’t want to see sense - what do you suggest?”

“Business as usual, M’lord! With extended care!”

*****  
And so things took their normal course. The usual routines were observed: Klaus returned to Germany for his lecture duties, visiting Dorian whenever he could afford a weekend. When Klaus was not in London, he and Dorian phoned every day. 

Dorian went to vernissages and auctions and managed his art gallery, John-Paul and Jones went away for a weekend to prepare Dorian’s country house for the holidays. James managed Dorian’s finances as usual, while Bonham saw to everything else in the London Gloria household. 

The only exception was that everybody was on red alert, and no one went out alone.

Again, all remained quiet for a few weeks. No nasty e-mails, no suspicious activities around the house. Except that nobody any longer really believed the threat to be over. Dorian’s and Jones’s move to the country house for the summer went without any unusual occurrence, though, and Klaus joined them for a few weeks.

Klaus knew that it was only a matter of time until Dorian would get restless. He was not the person to spend a few weeks quietly at his country house, with walks or rides through the beautiful North Downs countryside, reading or tending to his roses, with an occasional trip to London, Bonn, or Milan, perhaps. One morning - they had just come in from a ride - the phone rang. Dorian got the call while Klaus prepared to enjoy his first cup of Nescafé. 

“Oh, Darling, this is wonderful!” Dorian exclaimed when he had replaced the receiver. 

Klaus drew up his eyebrows as a question.

“Lady Carter-Fortescue just called. She had a riding accident. Nothing serious, thankfully, but it will render her unable to travel for the next few weeks, so she offered me her tickets for Bayreuth! ‘Mastersingers’ and ‘Flying Dutchman’! Heaven knows, the poor thing was on the ticket waiting list for years, and now this. Endymion will be relieved, of course, that he doesn’t have to go with her. - It’s been years I last have been in Bayreuth, you know. Normally you’ve got to wait for ages to get some tickets! So I’ve told Jones already to reserve seats for us on a flight to Nuremberg!”

Klaus sighed. So much for the North Downs countryside. Wagner. In Bayreuth. He had been in Bayreuth once as a youth with his father. Five hours of sitting in an uncomfortable wooden seat, sleeping despite the loud music and an angry elbow which from time to time had dug into his ribs. It had been dull on end. He was no Wagnerite. The time spent in Bayreuth would be time he’d prefer to spend differently with his beloved art enthusiast, but it was clear that Dorian wanted for them to go together, and he didn’t want to leave his lover alone. Not now … So for once he didn’t object to having a part of his holidays planned without consulting him first.

His misgivings about the poison mailer/stalker would go with him, however. If this Addlethorpe guy had taken to the Bahamas and the Fortescue bloke was nursing his midlife crisis by playing Sugar Daddy, this was all well and good. Caesar Gabriel and his husband seemed happy enough, too, but he was close to having a look at the lady and the stuntman himself. And what about the Rogues’ Gallery? Sure, a lot of them were straight-forward thieves and conterfeiters, no psychos. But all in all, Dorian knew enough shady guys to cool the Gobi desert, and one or the other might bear him a grudge … for whatever reason. He would have to talk to Dorian again, he thought, but after their trip to Germany.

The next day, they took the plane to Nuremberg, and from there a train to Bayreuth, where they checked into Hotel Grüner Hof.

Dorian called London as soon as they had installed themselves at the hotel and spoke to Bonham. He informed him that he and Klaus would be in Bayreuth for a few days, while Jones and the Milvertons, housekeeper and gardener respectively, would be at Gloria Estate. He advised Bonham to have a strict eye on James, quite unnecessarily, as he thought.

*****  
James, of course, was not happy with Milord’s decision. It was well and good that Lady Carter-Fortescue had insisted on letting Milord have the expensive Bayreuth tickets for free - the flight and accommodation expenses for Milord and the Horrible Major would be his to pay, though.

Well, if the Earl decided to waste money by flying abroad to listen to music he could - as far as James was concerned - very well listen to much cheaper and more comfortably at home, probably in better quality, too - James decided, he, as well, would have some fun. A car boot sale was always a good option, but even more fun and way cheaper was roaming the dustbins in the neighbourhood.

Yes, of course the Earl and Bonham both had insisted he should not leave the house alone, but taking any of the others to a car boot sale always made them act strangely. Instead of being grateful that he saved the household a lot of money, they acted as if he didn’t belong to them. Just because he drove a hard bargain! Roaming the dustbins had the same effect, to an even stronger degree - so what was the point in asking Bonham or John-Paul to come along now? Besides, he didn’t like company so much when hunting for treasures. It seemed anyway as if they all were otherwise occupied. So James slipped out the door behind Bonham’s back.

Outside, he looked around carefully, the Earl’s warnings not completely forgotten, the image of the dead dog still in the back of his mind. But as no madman with a knife seemed to lurk anywhere, he rounded two corners and paid a visit to the waste container behind the small supermarket near the Underground station. It was freely accessible, which had become rare. Most supermarkets put their waste behind lock and key. This wouldn’t have presented a problem, but free access was even better, of course. James looked around for other dumpster divers or supermarket employees to drive him off. But no one was in sight.

All danger forgotten, he opened the lid. A bunch of bananas! And half of them still edible! James ate three of the bananas, roaming further, ignoring the smell. A wallet – empty but for a shiny ten pence coin! Today was a field day! 

Rustling through the dumpster, James nevertheless heard the approaching steps – probably one of the supermarket staff taking a smoke; probably he would try to chase him away, or a competitor for the treasures in the container had noticed him – anyway, time to leave.

He looked up, ready to bolt, only saw a shadow –something was pressed violently over his nose and mouth – a sharp, medical smell –everything turned black.

*****

A few moments after James had tiptoed away behind his back, Bonham discovered that his lover was gone. Cursing the little accountant and his own trusty nature, he rounded up John-Paul.

Dorian’s man-of-all-work was not amused. 

“Damn!” he cursed. “That fucking little –“, He interrupted himself under Bonham’s grim look. “Where could he be gone? Any idea?”

“We’ll troy the dumpster be’ind the supermarket at the tube foist,” Bonham answered. “’E can’t be off for long, and ‘e loikes goin’ there.”

“Your word in God’s ear,” murmured John-Paul.

As the said dumpster was just around two corners and it took a shorter time on foot to get there, they didn’t take a car. As it was, they were only seconds too late. 

Rounding the corner at the back of the supermarket, they saw a dirty white van, number plate crusted with mud, parked close to the big dumpster, and a hooded figure bundling a small person in a familiar brown tweed suit into the passenger seat.

“Oi!” Bonham shouted and ran up to the car, but had to jump aside when the driver sped up and vanished round the corner with screeching tyres.

John-Paul, who was faster on his feet than Bonham, ran after the van up to the next intersection, hoping the traffic light would be red and the driver would actually stop, but no such luck. The van made a left turn and was lost in the heavy evening rush hour traffic on the main street.

Panting, John-Paul returned to Bonham, who fumbled his mobile from his jacket pocket. 

“Bastard’s gone!” John-Paul gasped. “Fuck! Why didn’t we take the car?”

“’Cause Oi fought ‘e wouldn’t be far,” Bonham said. Inwardly, he was worried sick for his lover, and again he cursed himself for not paying enough attention, but outwardly, he appeared collected and calm after the first shock.

“We must go after him! Find the bastard that took James!”

“Foist, Oi must inform M’lord,” Bonham answered, taking his mobile out while already running back to the house.

 

*****

“Was duftet doch der Flieder  
So mild, so stark und voll …”  
(How mild, strong and rich smells the lilac …“)

Dorian’s mobile vibrated into Hans Sachs’s “Fliedermonolog” from “The Master Singers of Nuremberg”. The Earl exchanged a look with the Major next to him, and much to the other opera enthusiasts’ dismay, he rather unceremoniously clambered over expensive shoes and quickly withdrawn legs in expensive trousers, trod on evening gowns, hastily excusing himself, leaving the auditorium through the nearest exit. Klaus followed immediately in his wake, and he did not apologize when he trod on toes or grazed shins which weren’t taken out of his way fast enough.

Dorian had instructed Bonham to call only if there was an emergency, and no one except Bonham had the number for this special mobile.

//Damn! I knew this bastard would attempt something as soon as we both left!// Klaus thought.

“What is it?” he asked Dorian, who had turned very pale.

“Someone took James. Apparently he slipped out behind Bonham’s back to raid the dumpsters behind the supermarket at the Underground station. Noticing James was gone, Bonham guessed he’d gone to the dumpsters – it’s one of his favourite haunts. And when he and John-Paul arrived, they saw somebody bundle up James into a white van, license plate illegible. The van then roared off into a southern direction. – Klaus, I must leave at once! I must go home!”

Klaus cursed loudly, and some of the Wagner enthusiasts who had no tickets and listened outside looked up, annoyed at the disturbance.

“Muss das sein?” (“Is this necessary?”) a bespectacled young man asked, but fell silent when Klaus’s hard gaze met his eyes.

“Ask Bonham to access your e-mail account,” he said, while he rounded the Festspielhaus and called a taxi. 

The taxi arrived quickly, and when they had just gotten back to their hotel, Bonham answered the Earl’s call. There was e-mail indeed.

“’E’s sent a link,” Bonham reported. “It leads to a webcam. Jaimes’s in a koind of box – looks loike a coffin to me –“

The room around Dorian reeled. He had to support himself at the back of a chair.

//Oh God, not buried! Buried alive!//

“He – he must still be alive, otherwise it wouldn’t make any sense to …”

He heard Bonham breathe harshly.

“Oi can’t say for sure, M’lord. ‘E isn’t movin’, but Oi suppose so. ‘E must still be under.”

Dorian flinched when Klaus touched his shoulder to get his attention.

“Ask him for the link. And for the e-mail text.”

“Tic – toc, tic – toc,” Bonham answered Dorian’s question. “That’s the e-mail text,” he added. Then he gave Dorian the link.

“Listen, Bonham, we’re coming back –“

The room phone rang. Klaus took the call. The hotel receptionist had booked a flight back to London for them which would go in two hours.

“Our flight leaves in two hours. I’ve got to go. Both you and John-Paul – don’t do anything rash!”

*****  
They changed into casual clothes and packed hastily. On their way to the airport, Bonham called again. His voice sounded higher than normal and his breathing was laboured. 

//He is close to panic.// Dorian thought. //Dear God …// Things were really bad when calm, sturdy Bonham was close to panic.

“Jaimes ‘as woken up.”

//So at least he is alive. But this is probably part of the game …//

“And - how is he - doing?” Dorian tried to sound calm, but he managed no better than Bonham.

“’E’s tryin’ to get out, but the box is closed, o’ course. Most probably under the earth, even.”

Klaus snatched the mobile phone away from Dorian.

“Can you see something like an air shaft, some ventilation?” 

“Oi can’t see the whole box, could be that -”

“There must be, given the time that has passed.” Klaus consulted his watch. “Otherwise he would have suffocated already. But I bet access to air is limited. This  
would fit in with the header of the e-mail,” he continued grimly. “Anything you can see, Bonham? Anything unusual that might give us a hint where he is?”

“Nothin’, Maijor.” Bonham sounded close to tears. “Oi’m lookin’ until me bloody eyes fall out, but the area shown is too small! Oi can’t see anythin’ which could give us a ‘int! Oi shouldn’t ‘ave -“ His voice broke.

“Pull yourself together, man!” Klaus barked. “What you should have or shouldn’t have done doesn’t help one bit! And it doesn’t change anything! - What about the e-mail address?”

Bonham took a deep breath. “It’s godandmonster@web.uk! What does that mean?”

Dorian took over the phone again.

“This guy has a very sick sense of humour.” He had difficulties to bring the words out, because his lips felt numb and his mouth was dry. However, something in the back of his head began to work. Something with gods and monsters struck a chord. But he must take care of Bonham first.

“Get some rest, Bonham. Let John-Paul take over.”

“How could Oi get some rest, M’lord, when that bastard ‘as buried Jaimes to let ‘im suffocaite?!

“Do as I say!” Dorian sounded more sharply to himself than he intended. He felt a cold calmness spread in his whole body, an icy resolve. This resolve had helped him get back on his feet after his car accident and more so, after Toby’s death. 

//Of what does this e-mail address remind me? Does he give a hint, but a hint for what? Just you wait, you piece of shit, I will solve your riddle! I won’t give up James!//

“Listen, Bonham. This will not happen. I will not let it happen, do you hear? I will not let this happen! Do you hear, Bonham?”

“Yes, M’lord.”

“Very well. We must dash now. If everything goes well, our plane will leave in less than an hour. I will have the mobile switched on until we take off. And you get some rest! I mean it! Tell John-Paul to call whenever anything happens or changes. Will you do this, Bonham?”

“Yes, M’lord. Oi’m sorry, M’lord.”

“No need to be sorry, Bonham. Do as I say.” Dorian ended the call, turning to his lover. If his voice had not betrayed his desperation while talking to Bonham, it did now, as well as his pale, set face.

“If there is limited air for James - Klaus, how long?” 

“As long as the damn bastard wants to play his sick game!” Klaus said in a harsh voice.

“I should have taken them all to the countryside,” Dorian said. “But maybe, this would only have postponed things –“

“These thoughts are not helping!” Klaus said sharply and shook him. 

Dorian nodded and fell silent. Klaus was right. He must keep his wits together.

*****  
I had time to think. I took your human pet. It was easy. I watched your house. First, there was no opportunity to get one of you, because no one went out alone. But then you left with the German and one of your cronies, so I thought the rest of the bunch at your house would become less careful. I was right. The little vermin scampered away happily to the supermarket and roamed the dumpster. Child’s play to sedate him and get him into the car.

I will give you a riddle. Let’s see whether you are clever enough to solve it. You are so clever, you have a chance. I am not unfair. If you solve the riddle, the little pest might live. 

It took a lot of preparations; I was too occupied to think. Now, though, when everything is finished, I feel - empty, numb.

I asked myself, could I kill a living thing? I killed the dog. It was hard. I think it will be easier to kill the little rat by just never going again where I put him. We shall see …

 

*****  
Mercifully, their flight was on time. When they had taken off, Dorian stared with unseeing eyes out of the window at the passing clouds.

//How to find a needle in a haystack?// Klaus thought. Even if he called in some favours and alerted some NATO resources – without a hint where to look, even they would be at a loss. He looked at Dorian, who seemed to have lost all the strength he had shown in his phone call with Bonham. His lover had waved away the flight attendant who had asked him if he was unwell and now lay more than he sat in his seat, his eyes closed.

//He is resting,// Klaus thought. //Would be good for him.//

Dorian, however, was far from resting. His mind churned, and he tried not to panic, banishing all images of James gasping for air and frantically clawing at a coffin lid from his mind. He tried to concentrate on the strange familiarity of the e-mail address: godandmonster – god and monster …

//This bastard has buried James alive … I would have thought this the stuff for movies, a story by Edgar Allan Poe, or a dream …// A dream. An image flashed through his mind: He was at the National Portrait Gallery, standing in front of the Sargent sketch showing the young Ernest Thesiger. There was James, and suddenly he was nowhere to be found … James in a coffin, buried alive … an older Ernest Thesiger, in an old movie, giving a toast: “To a world of Gods and Monsters!” – Ernest Thesiger was buried in a London cemetery – which one? Could James be buried in the same cemetery, close to the Thesiger burial place?

He grabbed Klaus’s arm. Klaus, who had closed his eyes to rest for a few moments, was awake immediately. 

“I have an idea where James could be! I just need to look it up on the internet!”

*****  
During the years they had been together, Klaus had learned a lot about his lover, but relying on dreams was a new thing.

He shrugged.

“The place where that Thesiger fellow is buried is as good a place to start searching as any other,” he said, when Dorian had finished explaining his theory. 

“The e-mail address hints at Thesiger, I’m sure about that” Dorian said. 

Klaus was not so sure. Why would the bastard suddenly be giving hints? But as long as he did not know the game Dorian’s enemy was playing, he would go with his lover’s theory.

As soon as the plane had safely landed and they had cleared through customs, Dorian switched on his mobile and looked up Ernest Thesiger’s burial place. He then called home.

“Bonham, we’ll meet up at Brompton Cemetery! South Gate.”

*****  
When Bonham had thought for a moment his friend and employer had lost his mind – apart from being a burial place, Brompton Cemetery was a cruising place for the gay scene – he did not hesitate to inform John-Paul, who was to remain stationed in the house to watch how James was doing. Still holding up, as John-Paul had reported, “but it wouldn’t harm to hurry.”

Bonham drove as fast as he could without attracting any attention – thankfully it was very late by now and the traffic had thinned out. 

He parked the car in a small, quiet side street off Fulham Road in the shadows of a hedge and went up to the cemetery. Not far from the south gate, Dorian and the Major were waiting in the dark.

“We’ll do what we do best.” Dorian whispered. “We’ll keep away from the main road and get over the wall. Bonham knows his way around to the grave, and then we’ll have to seek for a place where James – could be buried.”

Going over the wall was an easy task for two trained thieves and one top soldier, even with equipment. Bonham had brought night view goggles and foldable spades. Having worked for a while as a guide leading tourists to the graves of celebrities on Brompton Cemetery when he was younger, he knew his way around.

//Here we are, in the middle of the night at a cemetery – following a hunch brought about by a dream,// Dorian thought. //What if I am wrong after all, what if James is elsewhere? It will be his death, and it will be on my conscience. Forever. But doing nothing – what would that avail to? I would have this on my conscience as well. Forever.//

He flinched when Klaus touched his arm to urge him on.

Almost noiselessly they weaved their way between the tombstones. They reached the monument, a block formed like a sarcophagus which sealed the entry to a vault. A quick search revealed that the marble block itself had not been tampered with. And the grass looked untouched.

Dorian’s heart sank. It would be too late. James would be doomed – doomed to suffocate in the dark – alone – probably far, far away from Brompton Cemetery – 

Now it was Bonham, who touched his arm. He pointed to the smaller stone next to the vault. Dorian went to his knees and read: “Ernest Thesiger, their youngest son …”. 

Klaus had moved one or two steps behind the vault, to the bushes growing there. The bushes rustled when he vanished into them, came out again, motioned to Dorian and Bonham. 

Dorian came over and took a sharp breath – yes, someone had dug there, cleared a space under the bushes, just big enough to take a small coffin … And there was a small pipe sticking out from the ground.

//Oh God, thank you, thank you …//

They began to dig. Two minutes later, they had almost freed a box the size of a big trunk from the earth, careful not to dislodge the small pipe. Three spades, applied almost at the same time, cracked open the box, and James shot up, gasping for air, was caught in Dorian’s arms, panting, sobbing, while John-Paul’s voice stammered into their earphones: “Oh my God, you’ve found him, you’ve got him, he’s alive! “ 

“Fast now!” Klaus mouthed. “Dorian and Bonham half carried James to the cemetery wall, heaved him over, placed him in the car. A good five minutes later, Klaus was setting up a new speed record, heading towards Dorian’s house.

*****  
“How is he?” Dorian asked, turning to Bonham, who had wrapped James in a blanket and tried to get some water from a bottle into him. James’s teeth were chattering and he was trembling all over, his eyes wide open, but unfocused.

“See for yourself, M’lord. ‘E’s not doin’ too well, Oi’d say. – Jamesie, oi, Jamesie! S’ me, Bonham, Maite. And there’s the Earl and the Maijor. You’re with us, Maite! With friends!” Bonham spoke softly, gently, as calmly as he could, but James did not react, showed no sign of recognition. 

“Oh, Maite, c’mon!” Bonham sounded a bit desperate. “Everything’s alroight now!”

“Jamesie –“ Dorian tried to get through to his accountant as well. “We’re going home, Jamesie. – Oh, look what I’ve found! There’s actually a penny lying under the seat!” He bent down and when he came up again, he held a shiny pence coin between his fingers. Normally, this would have caught James’s attention for sure, but there was no reaction this time.

Klaus took a look in the rear-view mirror at the trembling mess of a man on the back seat, cradled in Bonham’s arms, staring wide-eyed straight into hell, it seemed.

“He needs a doctor.”

Dorian and Bonham exchanged a glance.

“’Awkeye ‘appens to be in town,” Bonham said. 

“Is he any good? Do you trust him? And where do I find him?” Klaus asked.

“If I ever trusted a doctor, it’s Hawkeye,” Dorian answered. “He is – strange, to put it mildly, but he is very good. And the best of all – “Dorian scrolled through the numbers in his mobile and dialled. “He does house calls.”

Klaus grunted.

“Eroica,” Dorian spoke into his mobile. “Man with a severe shock – yes, one of my men –“

“- has probably been drugged with unknown substances –“ Klaus threw in.

“Got that?” Dorian continued. “My house, yes. Thank you.” He ended the call.

Five minutes later, Klaus parked the car close to Dorian’s house.

Carefully, they carried James in, where a worried couple, John-Paul and Jones, received them. They placed him on the living room sofa and put him into shock position: on his back, legs higher than the rest of the body.

“How is he? I came straight over when I heard from John-Paul what had happened,” Jones said.

“We had an agreement that nobody should go or drive anywhere alone!” Dorian reprimanded him sharply. “James slipped out alone, and he’s a mess now! I don’t want to happen this to any more of my men!” 

He hugged Jones.

“I’m glad you arrived safely.”

“What the hell happened to him?” Jones asked when Dorian had released him from his hug. “Hey James, you okay?”

James just shivered more and pulled the blanket closer around his small frame. His fingers were bloodied, his nails ragged. And still he did not give a sign that he heard any of the questions posed to him. 

Jones exchanged a worried look with Bonham.

“And what the hell -?”

The doorbell rang, before he could finish his question. John-Paul, checking the surveillance monitor, gave a thumbs-up. Jones left, and returned a few minutes later with a tall, blond man. Klaus, who had been introduced to the world of Harry Potter by eight-year-old Bernhard on one of the rare occasions when he had been home, and then on every opportunity when father and son had met through Bernhard’s childhood and youth, thought the new arrival looked a bit like the rich, snobby wizard Lucius Malfoy. The impression mostly came from the tall frame, the regal posture and the whitish blond hair, taken up in a loose ponytail that fell down over his back almost to his buttocks. Definitely not your ordinary family doctor.

Piercing blue eyes took in the room and the people present. They lingered a little bit longer on Klaus, who gave him a cold stare. 

“Evening, Gentlemen,” the doctor called Hawkeye finally said. The cold blue eyes focused on James with glee, and the strange man swept down on the accountant like a bird of prey on a rabbit. Reluctantly, Bonham left his place next to James to give the doctor room.

Hawkeye took James’s pulse and shone a small lamp into his eyes.

“He’s been conscious all the time since you retrieved him?”

Bonham nodded.

“Good. What happened to him exactly?”

“He was shut into a coffin and buried. The coffin had a small air shaft.”

Hawkeye grunted, taking a stethoscope from the leather bag he had brought.

“Even if I consider him a bloody nuisance at the best of times, I think that’s a bit stiff – ouch! You little rat! Let go!” Angrily, he pulled free of James, who had reared up like a viper and bitten into his hand.

“Get off me, Hawkeye!” he screamed. “Milord, help me! That quack’s trying to kill me! Help!”

He jumped off the sofa and crawled under Dorian’s writing desk. 

“Eh voilà!” Hawkeye exclaimed, waving his bloodied hand dramatically. “He recognized you and me, that’s a good sign. Now if you will get him out from under there, I’ll be able to take a blood sample, give him something to stabilize his blood circulation and to make him sleep. He shouldn’t overexcite himself. And I promise not to break the needle off in his arm,” he added, giving the small accountant a murderous look.

Dorian knelt down at the writing desk and tried to coax James out of his hiding place by promising him he would part with two of his Fabergé Eggs for James to sell and keep the money. He had to make it three, and only then James would come out. He bravely faced Hawkeye, who had disinfected his hand and now brandished a syringe, looking daggers at him.

When Bonham had brought James up to his room, he put him to bed and stayed upstairs to watch over his lover’s sleep. 

Meanwhile Hawkeye downstairs finished the brandy Dorian had offered him.

“The Ivy Navy will anchor at Portsmouth for another week, if someone should decide to get shot at, blown up, drowned or what have you. I’ll stay in London, so I can be here in a jiffy. It would be a pleasure.” There was a sadistic gleam in his eyes.

“I can imagine,” Dorian said drily. “Thank you for your kind offer and your help today, Hawkeye, but I sincerely hope we won’t be in need of your assistance again anytime soon,” he added firmly.

“Don’t mention it, Goldilocks.” Hawkeye waved a nonchalant hand in Dorian’s direction, took a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and got one out using his teeth. He pointed his chin at Klaus. “You’re in good hands with Herr Obersturmbannführer here. – With regard to James: You haven’t told me a lot, but you seem to have pissed off somebody resourceful. Why else would someone try to bury the little pest you care for so much?”

“I’ll see you out, Hawkeye;” Dorian said hastily. In passing, he shot a nervous glance at Klaus, who had taken out a gun – not his Magnum, but a small calibre. The shot rang out, the bullet cut the doctor’s cigarette in half and buried itself in the doorframe.

“Never address me with a Nazi military rank again,” Klaus said.

Hawkeye froze for the fraction of a second, then he lit the cigarette butt, nodded to Klaus and left the room.

This has become a matter for the police now,” Klaus said when the strange doctor had finally left.

“No!” Dorian snapped. “No police!”

Knaus knew very well that his lover was on the verge of exhaustion, but this issue had to be addressed now.

“What else will have to happen before you see sense?! Don’t be a bloody fool!” he shot back.

“And what good will come of it? Having some incompetent cops sniffing around and filling out forms? No – this is a case for Volovolonte’s men!”

“Dorian! Listen to me –“

“No, no, and no! My last word: no police!”

Quite untypical for him, Klaus relented – at least for the time being.

“It’s probably not the right time to discuss the matter, as we’re both very worn out and upset. It’s your decision, but you know my opinion.”

“There is nothing –“ Dorian began, but caught himself and relented as well. 

“You are right, Darling. It has been a horrible day. I apologize for my abruptness. We should try and get some rest.”

Klaus noted very well that Dorian had not offered to consider again contacting the police.

//Very well. If he decides to be a stubborn fool, I’ll have to be extra vigilant.//

*****  
So you solved my little puzzle, it seems. – Or did you have help? Did * he * get into my head? I must be more careful, it’s not easy to shut him out completely. It was fairly easy to hide * this one * thing from him, but my revenge on you, Gloria, took a lot of my concentration, so * he * might have - 

No, no, this can’t be – but can I be sure that the bond between * him * and me is actually severed? There is only one way to make sure, but I cannot – no, I cannot do that! But what the hell can I do? What can I do? I do not want this – no, no – not  
* him *, but this bond must be severed for good – it has to be cut … I will make it quick. No games this time. But you, Gloria, will suffer anyway. I must think of this, this is good … you will suffer …

*****  
James awoke in the dead of night, screaming.

“Shhh, shhh, shhh, Jaimesie, alroight, alroight, quiet, everything’s foine!” Bonham was there, holding him, hugging him, and that was good, although not everything was fine. This guy had abducted him, buried him alive and would have let him rot there, had not the Earl, Bonham and the Major found him. And he would pay for it! Literally. And lots of money, if he, James, had any say in the matter.

“I’ll sue him!” he announced. “He’ll pay through the nose for what he did to me!”

//He’s still not completely on track yet,// Bonham thought. //We don’t know who the bastard is, what he looks like, and James wants to sue his ass off already.//

“Sure, you can sue ‘im to your ‘eart’s delight, Jaimesie. But foist we must know who ‘e is, before you can sue ‘im.”

“But I know who he is!” James answered impatiently. “I saw his face!”

Bonham sat up, fully awake now.

“You what?!”

“I saw his face,” James repeated. “He wore a ski mask, but he took it off when he thought I was still under. And the bag over my head had a hole, so I peeped.”

“Can you descroibe ‘im?”

“He’s become gray and a little stouter, but he’s still muscular.”

“Sounds as if you know ‘im.”

“You know him as well.”

Bonham took a deep breath and counted inwardly to ten. He seldom lost his patience with his lover, but now he was dangerously close to yelling at James.

“Who was it, Jaimesie?”

“The guy who was with Caesar Gabriel.”

“What guy? Gabriel’s boyfriend?”

“Nah, I bet he never was his boyfriend, just his friend. He came to Island Gloria, looking for Caesar Gabriel, with the girl, remember?”

“You mean the stuntman, what’s ‘is name, Leopard -?”

“Yes, yes, him!”

Bonham jumped out of bed. Could they actually have found the poison e-mailer, the dog killer and kidnapper?

“You’re absolutely sure, Jaimesie?”

“Yes, I am!” James was miffed. “You think I’m making this up?”

Bonham took another deep breath. The hooded figure that had placed Gucci’s body at the front door … The shape with the hoodie who had bundled James into the white van … It could have been anyone, but it could well have been the stuntman.

“Sorry, Jaimesie, but Oi want to be absolutely sure, before Oi waike up the Earl and the Maijor. You’re sure it was the stuntman? You know, it would be a bad fing if we went for the wrong guy.”

James merely looked at him like a kicked puppy.

“Why does no one ever believe me if I say something?”

Bonham sighed. “Alroight, then. Tell the Earl.”

*****  
Two minutes later Dorian opened his bedroom door and found his second-in-command in his pyjama bottoms and a tee-shirt with the message “Cthulhu reigns!” on the threshold. The first moment his heart sank, because he thought something was the matter with James, but the accountant was standing next to his lover, wearing a “Go Petunias!” tee-shirt a few sizes too big for him and looking rather smug.

“I’m going to get a lot of money!” he announced. “We’ll sue this Solid man for burying me. And I bet we can sue him for the dog, too. And for all those ugly e-mails he sent you!”

Dorian scratched his head and tried to clear his thoughts. 

“Which solid man?”

“No solid man!” James answered impatiently. “Solid! Leopard Solid!”

“Leopard?” Dorian turned very pale. “No! Not Leopard!”

He took James by the shoulders. 

“Are you sure, Jamesie? Absolutely sure?”

James rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, I’m absolutely sure,” he said, pouting. “He took off his ski mask, probably because it was too hot, and the bag over my head had a hole, so I peeked. And it was him!”

Dorian went pale and all his energy seemed to leave him. His hands slid away from James’s shoulders and fell back to his sides. He swayed and held on to the doorframe.

“M’lord? What’s the matter?” Bonham was worried, but Dorian did not seem to hear him.

“Why?” he whispered. “We could have talked everything through. I would never have thought you could be so hurt and so – dastardly mean! That’s not like you, Leopard! That’s not like you!”

“Dorian?” Klaus asked, “What is going on here?”

“Yes, I want to know this, too!” James crowed, arms akimbo.

Dorian sat down on his bed and covered his face in his hands for a moment. When he looked up, he was still pale, but there was a cold resolve in his eyes.

“After Toby’s death, Leopard and I had a short affair.”

“What?” Bonham asked, but before he could say anything more, James began to scream.

“So it’s all your fault! Everything is your fault! I hate you!”

“Jamesie –“ Dorian tried to stroke his face, but James beat his hand away.

“Leave me alone!” He ran down the corridor.

“Scuse me, M’lord! Oi don’t want ‘im to do anythin’ rash in ‘is staite. ” Bonham followed his lover.

Klaus closed the bedroom door and sat down next to Dorian on the bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” He shook his head.

“I never thought – Klaus, Leopard is a good-natured, lovely person! The nasty e-mails, the killed dog, James abducted and buried – this is so unlike him I still cannot believe it! I simply didn’t think it possible it could be him! But had I told you, you would have focused on him – which I would have thought was unfair –“

Klaus shook his head again, disappointed.

“You goddamned fucking idiot! Why didn’t you trust me?! And you kept it a secret even from Bonham?”

Dorian looked sad and crestfallen, but Klaus was not in the mood to relent.

“After Toby’s death, I went to France for the summer. In Paris I met Leopart. He was doing stunts for a Musketeer movie there. We spent three months together. It probably was – Bonham would have thought that I would open up old wounds again – something like this …”

“He probably wasn’t that wrong,” Klaus remarked grimly. “Did you dump Solid? Hurt him in any way?” he asked sharply. It was hard for him to push away his disappointment about Dorian’s lack of trust. It hurt him more than he wanted to admit to himself. Probably Bonham and James would feel the same.

Dorian shook his head. 

“We separated on good terms. At least I thought so. If he was hurt, he didn’t show it. I thought he as well knew from the start that our time together would be limited. ” He nervously put a strand of his hair around his finger and twirled it. “No – I never thought him capable of – this. It was one of the biggest mistakes in my life!”

“You could say that!” Klaus snapped. 

“After more than two years – his anger must have built up – but - I’m sorry, Klaus. I’m really sorry. I – this simply cannot be Leopard! I can’t believe it! James must be mistaken!”

“Hm,” growled the Major, “James may be a lot of things, but his eyesight seems alright, and he has a good eye for faces. Besides – there are people who nurse a grudge over years, even decades.”

In a sudden impulse, Dorian got up and began to dress.

“Where are you going? What are you up to?”

“What do you think?” Dorian asked. “I’m going to confront him with this hideous accusation! Try to find out the truth! Maybe get sense into him!” He hid a small knife in his sleeve and took his skeleton keys.

Klaus stepped over to the door, blocking his lover’s way out. 

“Are you completely out of your mind now?! If James is right, and regarding what you told me, I believe him, Solid fucking hates you, he has killed your dog, he would have killed James! I think this whole bloody mess is well past the talking stage!”

“I have to try at least!” Resolutely Dorian stepped up to his lover. “Let me pass, Klaus!”

The phone rang. Dorian and Klaus looked at each other. Klaus consulted the alarm clock on the nightstand. Four fifteen.

“Dear God, what is this now?” Dorian said.

“Nothing good,” Klaus answered.

The phone kept on ringing. The Major hurried downstairs. Dorian followed.

Klaus took up the receiver.

“Gloria household.”

*****  
Caesar Gabriel had not had a good day. It had begun badly when he had fought out an argument with Ulyxes, his partner. About a bagatelle, really: Caesar had made a gentle remark about Ulyxes procrastinating his habilitation thesis, and his lover had gone ballistic. One word had followed the other, until Ulyxes had packed a suitcase and left, declaring that Caesar had become too overbearing lately. He needed some space and time to think about their relationship. And this had just been the beginning.

During his lecture at the University, the visualizer had packed up; a Bachelor thesis he had received proved to be a catastrophe. After a long and exhausting discussion with the author he was late for a meeting with a French colleague, and he could not reach him on the phone because the battery of his mobile was low, and the charging cable at home, of course. The afternoon was taken up by tea with the vice chancellor and his wife, she flirting shamelessly, which he noticed and acted as if his wife’s flirtatiousness was Caesar’s fault. After his fallout with Ulyxes, this had even more grated on his nerves.

Exhausted, he had come back to an empty house in the evening. His attempt to relax a little with some Purcell had been cut short by the doorbell. Thinking that maybe Ulyxes had changed his mind, he had hurried to the door, finding Leopard outside instead. His joy about the visit of an old friend had ended abruptly, though. He had turned around to lead Leopard upstairs, when he was grabbed from behind and a sharp-smelling rag was pressed over his nose and mouth –

And now he had woken up with a splitting headache. He must have had a very bad dream. Small wonder, when he had slept sitting up rigidly in an armchair. He tried to wipe his eyes and found that he could not move his arms. His wrists were bound to the armrests of his chair with packing tape, his ankles to the chair legs – and Leopard, his friend from childhood days, was pacing up and down in front of him, waving a gun. Somehow, it was a totally unreal situation.

“Leopard, what is this about? What are you doing?”

Leopard stopped his pacing.

“Oh, you’re awake. That’s good, because I have to explain.”

“Explain? I’d say you have something to explain! Why did you bind me to a chair?”

Leopard cocked the gun at him. Caesar froze.

His friend shook his head and let his arm sink down.

“Perhaps – I’m mad, Caesar. But I will explain. I closed off the psychic channel between us.”

//I must talk to him,// Caesar thought frantically. //I must keep him talking. As long as he talks to me, he won’t shoot me.//

“So I have noticed, Leopard. But why did you close it off?”

Leopard came closer, hunkered down next to Caesar’s chair. He smelled unwashed, which frightened Caesar. Normally, his friend used to be very clean.

“It is complicated, you see. I want to right a wrong that has been done to us all – you, Sugar Plum, and me – all of us. But you would not want me to do it, Caesar, and neither would Sugar. So I closed off the channel, closed off my thoughts from you both. But I must make sure the channels are closed for good. And here the problem starts.”

“And what exactly is the problem?” Caesar asked. He had a very bad feeling that actually he knew what the problem was.

Leopard brought his face close to Caesar’s. His eyes were red-rimmed, his skin grey, his cheeks hollow and unshaven. He definitely smelled of alcohol and sweat. Caesar could not help but think how much his friend had also aged during the last few months.

“The problem is that I must make sure,” Leopard repeated. “The channel must be closed for good –“

“But it is closed!” Caesar assured him. “It –“

The gun was pointed at his head.

“Don’t interrupt me! It is important that you understand. I cannot be sure that the channel is really closed off –“

Caesar still tried the voice of reason. “Leopard, it is closed off! You closed it!”

The stuntman grabbed his shoulders and shook him so violently that the chair almost toppled over.

“Don’t lie to me! I can’t bear that! Matters are complicated enough as it is!”

“Leopard!” Caesar screamed. “That hurts!”

Leopard stopped shaking him and took a step back. He looked shocked.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry I lost it. Sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you. Please understand: I’m not mad at you or at Sugar, but I can’t let you interfere here. Believe me, I do not like what I have to do!” He began his pacing again. “It’s not easy … not easy …”

Caesar closed his eyes.

//God, what can I do? What can I do? … Sugar!//

“I don’t want it, you know? Caesar, you always have been the clever one. You tell me what to do!”

A phone rang. Leopard stopped his pacing.

*****

“Lord Gloria? Sugar Plum here. Please forgive me for calling at this hour, but I fear Caesar is in danger.”

Wordlessly, Klaus handed Dorian the receiver.

“Dorian Red Gloria.”

Dorian swayed slightly when Sugar Plum repeated what she had told Klaus.

//God, is he with Caesar now …? Was James right?//

He rallied. “What makes you think this? Just a minute, I put you on loudspeaker, so the Major can hear you, too.”

“He just called out for me – over our psychic connection. He is afraid – very afraid. I tried to reach his mobile, but it is switched off. And he doesn’t answer his landline either. Sometimes – sometimes when he’s very upset, the psychic connection is not very clear. I just heard him cry out., and I’m very worried.”

“His partner?”

“Ulyxes has his mobile switched off as well. I can’t reach any of them. Then I tried to reach Leopard – just out of habit. I thought of a break-in at Caesar’s house. But I cannot reach Leopard either. Then I – I thought that maybe – maybe - I fear – something is wrong with him. He might hurt Caesar.”

Dorian closed his eyes.

//Goodness, would he even hurt Caesar, his best friend, to hurt me, then?//

Klaus drew his breath in sharply.

“What makes you think this?” Dorian asked again.

Sugar Plum sighed. “I hate to say this about an old friend, but he has been acting strangely towards Caesar and me lately.”

“Why is that?”

“He closed off the psychic bond between us. Caesar and I still can communicate in this way, but neither of us gets through to Leopard any more. – But before he closed himself off – I - I got some very bad thoughts from him - about you, Lord Gloria. I got - he hates you, because you betrayed him! He wants to hurt you. Badly. I can hardly believe it. It’s so untypical of him.”

Dorian sighed deeply. 

“This much I got already.”

“Really? Did he threaten you?”

“More than that, sadly to say,” Dorian confirmed.

“Oh my god!” Sugar Plum said. 

Dorian swallowed.

“I thought the same, but after hearing what you are telling me now …” 

“Yes,” Sugar Plum continued, “what I get from Caesar now – he is in danger, and – he is afraid of Leopard! Leopard – no doubt! But I know Leopard – he would never harm anyone! Not Leopard!”

“Until very recently, I would have said the same. - But I have good reason to believe that Leopard has been stalking and harassing me and members of my household,” Dorian said flatly. “So, frankly, I beg to differ.”

He heard Sugar Plum breathe harshly. 

“He would never really harm Caesar!” she said resolutely, but it sounded as if she was trying to convince herself, rather than Dorian. “And you said he harassed you?”

“I have good reason to believe he send me a e-mail with a picture of my former lover dead in the wreck of his car, killed my dog, abducted one of my men and buried him alive. So I would not put it past him to present a danger even to his closest friends.” Dorian’s voice sounded harsh and bitter.

“No – “ Sugar Plum whispered. “Oh my God, we must –“

“Stay away from there.” Dorian interrupted her. “It’s too dangerous. I will go. I’m afraid, it is all my fault. Leopard and I had an affair for a while, and I ended it, although we apparently separated as friends.” 

“Well, but could this have him lose it completely?” Sugar Plum sounded upset. “I still can’t believe it, but - please be careful! – Shouldn’t I really come with you? Maybe he will calm down and see sense?”

“Probably not,” Dorian answered. “You might be in as much danger as Caesar is. I will go. It is me he has issues with. Please, Sugar Plum, stay away from there.”

Sugar Plum sounded close to tears now.

“I will,” she promised. “But please be careful.”

“This goes without saying.”

Dorian ended the call and looked at Klaus who stood at the wall, arms crossed, looking grim.

“What if they all three are in league? What if it’s a trap?” he asked.

Dorian shook his head. 

“I don’t think so. You heard her, and she sounded really worried. - Klaus, this has to end once and for all. I have to confront Leopard. I am fed up with this game, and I have a strong feeling Sugar Plum is right and Caesar is in danger. If I go now, I might prevent Leopard from harming him.”

“And maybe get yourself killed instead?!” Klaus snapped.

“Darling, I can look after myself,” Dorian said.

“But do you want to – don’t you actually want to play the martyr, from a goddamned feeling of guilt?! Knowing that you royally fucked up the whole affair?!” 

Klaus’s look was hard, and Dorian had trouble meeting the green glare.

“Maybe – maybe not. But - Klaus, this is my battle. Let me fight it my way.”

Klaus moved his head towards the door. A dismissing gesture.

“Fight, then!”

*****  
The phone stopped ringing, began again. 

//It’s Sugar – no, no, do not come here, please!//

Leopard ignored the phone, resumed his pacing.

“I’d rather kill myself than you or Sugar, but if I’m dead, Caesar, I cannot go through with my plan, you see? And I’ve got to go through with my plan – to avenge you. – And me. - But to avenge us, I’ve got to make sure you don’t interfere with my plan of revenge – and so I have to eliminate you. – But – but if I eliminate you, how can I do something for you, avenge you? – You see how difficult this is,” he babbled.

Had Caesar had any doubts yet, it now became clear to him that his friend was well on his way to losing his mind. What on earth had gotten into him? What was it Leopard wanted to do, how did he want to avenge them? What did he want to do? He said he would kill both his friends, but at the same time did not want to go through with it. Nothing made any sense at all. It seemed important to keep him talking, though. As long as he was talking, he would not shoot – perhaps. 

Caesar was aware that his friend was on a hair trigger, and one wrong word could earn him a bullet in his head. His only chance was that Leopard actually did not seem too keen on killing him. Neither did Caesar want his friend to hurt himself. Maybe he could be talked out of it after all …

“Leopard,” he said as calmly as possible. “I want to understand. Why do you want to avenge me? And for what?”

Leopard hunkered down next to Caesar’s chair again, his gun pointing downward.

“You ask me that? This shows me that I’m right. That damn Gloria has you under his spell! He abducted you, despoiled you, gave the order to kill your friends who came looking for you – and you ask me why I want to avenge you?! – He lied to us all, betrayed us all!”

//Oh my God! So it was Dorian he was after? He never got over our adventure on Island Gloria? After all these years?//

“He did not despoil me,” Caesar said as calmly as he could manage. “He merely kissed me. And I know now he would never have touched you two. Maybe I knew even then that it was just a trick – besides, he revoked his order! “

Leopard jumped up, waving the gun around.

“Ha! A trick! Yes, a trick – he frightened us all to death for his petty little game! And what is worse – he twisted your mind – he played with your feelings, humiliated you and then dumped you for that German, just like me! Did you never ever feel dumped, humiliated?!”

//Yes, I felt it - but I met other men. And Dorian became a friend - our friend. Did he never realize this? – Wait a moment – what did he just say?//

“I felt it – at that time,” Caesar admitted quietly, “but that was more than twenty-five years ago. Life goes on, Leopard. We change. And I for my part think it’s a thing of the past. – But you said Dorian dumped me for that German, just like you?”

Leopard stared at him wildly.

“I for my part still feel the fear I felt for you as if it had been only yesterday! The fear when his pet rat held Sugar at gunpoint! – And, yes, damn me – yes, I had an affair with the bastard, and what would you guess? He dumped me! ”

“You are right,” a calm voice said, before Caesar could get out another word. 

The Professor gasped in surprise. Leopard swished around, pointed his gun at the intruder who stepped into the light. It was the object of his hatred, Dorian, looking pale, serious and determined.

“Your battle is with me, Leopard,” he said, “not with Caesar. You have some good points here. I did all the things you accuse me of. It was a despicable game I played, then and there with you all and lately with you, and there is no excuse for it.”

The gun pointed at him wavered slightly, was gripped tighter again.

//Oh God, if he pulls the trigger now – and what? They had an affair?// Caesar thought bewildered.

“How did you find out -? How did you know I was here?!” Leopard spat. “Can you read Caesar’s thoughts now? And how did you get in?”

He stepped behind the chair in which Caesar sat. The mouth of his gun swerved to the professor, but his eyes never left Dorian.

“I cannot read thoughts. My accountant saw and recognized you. And getting in here – ” Dorian answered.

Leopard lifted the gun a bit higher, now aiming at Dorian again. He trembled.

“You solved my little puzzle then,” he interrupted hoarsely.

“God and monster in your e-mail,” Dorian answered. “A quotation from James Whale’s ‘Bride of Frankenstein’. Ernest Thesiger.”

Leopard wiped his face. He was sweating. Dorian thought about making a lunge for the gun, but it would have been too risky, with Caesar bound and helpless between them.

So he went on. “But I do not want to give myself too much credit. When we found James, it still was not clear to me that it was you who had done this. I hadn’t made this connection yet. But hearing your name – suddenly a lot of things made sense. You love old horror films. And you would have a reason to bear both of us a grudge, James from old times, me from ending our affair. I never really apologised for what I did to you, Caesar, and Sugar Plum. So let me apologise now.”

Leopard stared at him. His eyes were wild.

//He’s in a world of his own,// Dorian thought. //And far away from reason. But reasoning with him is our only chance …//

“Do you think your grandstanding impresses me?! Isn’t it a bit late for your oh so sudden, tearful remorse?”

//Actually, it was you who played the dirty games lately,// Dorian thought. //And if it is too late for my remorse, so I might say it’s too late for your grudge as well. But you’ve got the gun. So I must play along until there is a chance to disarm you – or you put down the damned thing of your own free will, which I really would prefer.//

He lifted his hands.

“I am alone and unarmed. I have apologized. Whether you accept my apology or not is up to you. I can understand that you hate me. But do not let this hatred make you blind. Harming Caesar – is this really what you want? Now that I have come here of my own free will, how about letting him go?”

“No!” Leopard hissed. “He has to see that it’s wrong to be friends with you! What comes of it!”

Caesar found his voice again. 

“You should hear yourself, Leopard. You have always been good-natured and generous. I understand you must be hurt, but there must be another way to deal with this!” he implored his friend.

The gun in Leopard’s hand wavered again. 

“He is poison, don’t you see this?!” he shouted. “He turned you away from your friends, away from me, only to play with you and then cast you aside! Just as he did with me! – Don’t move!” he yelled at Dorian, who had taken a small, tentative step forward.

//So you had an affair with Dorian,// Caesar thought. //And you had - or still have - a crush on me? You hid everything so well – I would never have thought …//

“Do you mean by ‘he turned you away from me’ that you wanted - want - to be more than my friend?” he asked and tried to look up into Leopard’s face.

Leopard looked down at him, and Caesar noted that his eyes were filled with tears.

“You never noticed!” Leopard said in a harsh, broken voice. 

“You never gave away that you …”

“I said, don’t move!” Leopard yelled at Dorian, who had taken another tentative step. “If you try anything, I swear I’ll shoot him!”

Again, he pressed the gun to Caesar’s temple. Dorian froze.

Caesar swallowed, then spoke again.

“Leopard, listen to me. I’m sorry that what I’ll tell you now will hurt you, but it is the truth: We have always been friends and will always be friends, regardless what happens. But only friends. As for me, there will never be anything else but friendship between us, so Dorian never turned me away from you.”

Again, he looked up into Leopard’s face. 

The stuntman grimaced in pain and pressed the gun harder to Caesar’s temple. Caesar closed his eyes, Dorian hardly dared to breathe.

“You just say this now!” Leopard sobbed. “Hadn’t he come along, maybe – “ he said desperately.

Caesar took a deep breath.

“I doubt it, Leopard. Forgive me.”

Leopard sobbed harder, he trembled, but kept the gun pressed against his friend’s temple.

//If he would be distracted for just a moment,// Dorian thought, //But no, I wouldn’t have a chance …//

Caesar swallowed again. 

“As your friend, Leopard, I ask you: What good will it do if you shoot me – or Dorian? Would this bring any of us back to you? - You are no killer, Leopard. You would only hurt yourself.”

Leopard ground his teeth.

“I’ve botched everything up! As always! Why do I do everything wrong?!”

“No, Leopard,” Caesar said softly. “You do not do everything wrong. You have a chance to make everything right again. Put the gun away. I know that deep inside you actually don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“But I did already!” Leopard howled. “I did everything wrong! I killed a poor dog! I abducted a man!” The complete swing from anger and hatred to remorse and despair was hard to understand, but his feelings seemed genuine to Dorian.

“Leopard, it is not too late. Please put the gun away. Please,” Caesar pleaded.

//He’s on a hair trigger,// Dorian thought. //The next second we’ll have bloody brain parts and mayhem, or -//

Leopard removed the gun from Caesar’s head, pointed it at his own temple -

Dorian jumped forward, pushed the chair with Caesar in it against the stuntman, who lost his balance. Caesar yelled when all three toppled to the floor. Leopard lost the gun. In a flash, Dorian grabbed it and threw it out of the window, swishing around again to evade Leopard’s attack.

But no attack came. Instead, Leopard broke into tears. Blindly, he crawled over to Caesars chair and plucked at the adhesive tape binding his friend. Dorian pushed the stuntman away and cut through the tape with his knife. He didn’t care that Leopard saw he was armed after all, but the man was sitting on the floor, his head on his knees, crying.

Once freed, Caesar knelt down next to his friend, hugging him. 

“It’s alright, Leopard, it’s alright!” he whispered, rocking the stuntman in his arms like a child.

Leopard had a complete breakdown. Sobbing, he repeated “everything was wrong, everything I did was wrong” over and over, shaking his head wildly.

Dorian looked at the broken man and suddenly felt no anger any more, only pity. And shame. He knew very well that he had triggered Leopard’s behaviour by their breakup, and wished he had been more considerate. Nevertheless … He let the knife slide back into his sleeve and knelt down next to Caesar.

“Are you alright?”

“I am alright,” Caesar answered and turned back to Leopard. “As for him - I didn’t know what had been between you two – and how he actually felt for me – you see, he always was the strongest, the one who shook everything off – and now …” He didn’t finish the sentence, just held Leopard in his arms and stroked his hair.

“Caesar, what have I done? What have I done?” Leopard wailed.

“We all make wrong choices, sometimes. It is not too late for you to get help.”

“No, no, it’s too late! It’s too late!”

“It is not too late,” Caesar repeated. “Will you trust me? Will you let me help you?”

Leopard looked up.

“How?”

“I’ll speak to a professor who may be able to help you if you are willing to work with him.”

“A shrink?!” Leopard jumped up, becoming aggressive again. “I will see no damn shrink!”

Dorian had jumped up as well, knife at the ready, but still hidden. He did not want to provoke the stuntman.

Apparently calm, Caesar got up from the floor. He went to a sofa and sat down, beckoning to Leopard to join him. Dorian did not let the stuntman out of his sight. 

Instead of sitting down, Leopard agitatedly paced the room. Dorian looked around; checking if there was something to be found the stuntman might use as a weapon to harm himself or others, but could not find anything dangerous. 

“Leopard,” Caesar said.

The stuntman stopped his pacing, and when Caesar repeated his gesture, he finally went over to the sofa and sat down next to the professor. Dorian righted the armchair and sat down. He could not help admiring Caesar for how calm he had remained under life-threatening stress and how he still handled the situation. He had spoken respectfully to his confused and shattered friend and had told him the truth.

“Listen,” Caesar now said. “We should talk this through like the grown-ups we are.”

“By all means,” Dorian agreed.

“No one here is your enemy, Leopard,” Caesar continued. “But I think you should seek help. Seriously.”

Leopard put his head in his hands. 

“It’s all so – so damn complicated! I don’t know what to think anymore! Everything was wrong, and – yes, I did things I didn’t really want to do – and I’m not sure if I shouldn’t go on yet! I really don’t know what to do!”

“See a doctor, Leopard,” Caesar asked. “Harming yourself or others is not an option. As I said, I know someone who is a kind and good person and may be able to help you. But you must want it.”

“I should let myself be locked up in a lunatic asylum?!” Leopard jumped up, upset again.

Dorian was on the edge of his seat. He reinforced his grip on the knife.

Caesar remained calm.

“I guess you and Professor Lorenz will find the best form of treatment for you together,” he said. “No one said that you will have to stay in a clinic. Please, Leopard. Trust me. Try and give him at least a chance.” 

Leopard sat down. For a while, he stared silently into the air, rocking back and forth on the sofa.

“I do not want to talk about my feelings with a stranger!” he finally said.

“Sometimes a stranger can help you better, because of the distance he has to you. He can help you to see your own problems from another viewpoint,” Caesar said softly.

Leopard sat on the sofa, rocking, staring at nothing.

“He will press charges,” he then said, looking over at Dorian.

Dorian shook his head in amazement. Sure, the thought had crossed his mind, but right now he just wanted the whole nightmare to be over.

“I am not interested in pressing charges against you,” he answered truthfully. “If my accountant wants to press charges, however, this is taken out of my hands.”

Leopard looked at him again. To his relief, Dorian saw no hatred any more in that look, but only mistrust, surprise and bewilderment.

“I don’t believe a word you say.”

“Leopard, you have a right to be angry at me. Only taking it out on James and Gucci was wrong. Had you told me how you actually felt … well, be that as it may: My word: No attacks on my person, members of my household or friends, no damage to my property, no threatening e-mails any more - no charges. I will try to talk James into going along with this as well. Caesar is our witness,” Dorian replied.

Leopard looked down again, then at Caesar for confirmation.

“I believe Dorian,” Caesar said. 

Leopard nodded slowly, then wiped his nose.

“Alright,” he said.

“Very well. - So if you want, I’ll call Professor Lorenz now,” Caesar offered. 

The stuntman sighed.

“Alright,” he repeated. “Call him. Tell him that I want to see him as soon as possible. Before I change my mind.”

*****  
When Dorian threw the gun out of the window, Klaus, who had been hidden in a tree on the other side of the road, gave a sigh of relief. He had seen Leopard threaten Dorian and Caesar with a gun, Dorian jump at the stuntman, all three people falling to the floor, out of his sight, and Klaus was more than glad to see his lover reappear unharmed. Of course, it was a genuine Dorian stunt to throw the gun out of the window – over the years he had learned better than trying to use it, apparently. 

Nothing had held Klaus at home. Dorian’s idea to face an armed and emotionally unhinged man only with a small knife was all well and good – but he didn’t have to like it, for fuck’s sake! The whole affair might be Dorian’s business, he hadn’t been completely honest and endangered his whole household, and Klaus should have his hide for this – but no one but Klaus, certainly not this bloody stuntman!

//Why did the frigging idiot not tell me he had an affair with Solid?! As if he wanted to protect him! What the hell? I could wring his neck for this, dammit!// 

He watched what they were doing in Caesar’s house after Dorian had gotten rid of the gun. Leopard was crying now, Dorian freed the Professor who comforted his crying friend. Then the stuntman seemed to calm down and they sat round a table and seemed to talk. Even with the gun out of the way, Klaus was not at ease. This Solid guy was well trained, and he might well just pretend to have a breakdown. Klaus took him for being able to do enough harm without a weapon, so he kept his gun at the ready -

\- and noticed a movement in the shadow of the hedge separating Caesar Gabriel’s house from the neighbouring property. Somebody was lurking there. And that goddamned gun was still lying around somewhere in the bushes …

*****

Ulyxes had thought all day about his argument with Caesar. He had not slept well in his hotel room. So, early in the morning he had decided to go over to his lover’s house and make amends.

He was about to let himself in at the front door when he was grabbed from behind and felt something cold and sharp at his throat.

“And where do you think you are going, my friend?” a soft voice whispered into his ear. “No, no – I wouldn’t struggle – this is a scalpel at your throat, and one characteristic of scalpels is that they are very, very sharp. Now – oh –“ 

The voice stopped abruptly.

“Let him go!” another voice ordered. 

The sharp object was removed from Ulyxes’s throat. For a moment, he waited for another attack or a fight behind his back. When nothing of the sort happened, he turned around carefully. Two tall men eyeing each other over a gun. The man whom he recognized as Major Eberbach had it pointed at the other one, whose most distinguishing feature was a mass of light blond hair falling a long way down his back in a ponytail. And, indeed, he had a scalpel in one of his raised hands.

“Oh, it’s you,” the blond man said to the Major. He seemed rather unperturbed by the gun pointed at him, and rather nonchalantly took his hands down.

“What’s your business here?” the Major snapped.

Ulyxes looked bewildered from one man to the other. What on earth were they doing so early at Caesar’s front door, armed with a gun and a scalpel?

“I’m worried there, about Lord Goldilocks, you see,” the blond man said. “I thought this young man here was an intruder.”

“I am Professor Gabriel’s husband,” Ulyxes said indignantly.

The blond madman eyed him with amused interest.

“Oh, are you now?” He looked at the Major.

“He is,” Klaus confirmed brusquely. 

“I see. Well then, as it seems, the situation is under control now, so I’ll take my leave.” The stranger winked at his vis-à-vis, put the handle of the scalpel between his lips and moved his jaws so the scalpel tilted upwards.

“In your dreams!” the German snapped. 

“My pleasure.” Smiling, the scalpel wielder waved a mocking salute and turned to leave.

“Come on,” Klaus said to Ulyxes. “Let’s get upstairs. Caesar and Dorian perhaps need a hand with Solid.”

The uncanny stranger stopped in his tracks.

“Is there a problem?”

He sounded horribly gleeful. Ulyxes felt as if someone had put him into a casket and then thrown said casket down a waterfall. His argument with Caesar, his restless night and his decision to go and make amends – only to find two men at Caesar’s front door, one of whom had only been prevented from killing him by this frightening German. What was it about Solid? And who was Lord Goldilocks? If he meant Lord Gloria, how come this weird stranger was so intimate with the Earl? And what on earth was the matter with Caesar? Ulyxes’s head reeled.

“Pardon me,” he said meekly. “would you mind telling me what’s going on here?”

Just at this moment a taxi arrived. Caesar’s friend Sugar Plum stepped out, paid the driver and hurried up to the house.

“Ulyxes, Major Eberbach – Caesar called me. We must help Leopard!”

“Sugar – maybe you can bring some light into this darkness here! What’s the matter with Caesar? Is Leopard upstairs with him?” Ulyxes held on to her as if she were his last resort of sanity, rather theatrically, as Klaus thought.

“Apparently so,” Sugar Plum discreetly shook him off and rang the doorbell. “I tried to reach Caesar on his landline and his mobile phone yesterday, to no avail. Not even his e-mailbox or his answering machine.”

//That’s my fault,// Ulyxes thought. //When he’s hurt and confused, Caesar shuts himself off. And I had hurt and confused him for sure with my childish tantrum.// 

“And this morning, he called out to me over our psychic connection! Apparently Leopard was with him, threatening him. I called Lord Gloria, because he is one of Caesar’s best friends. He promised to look into the matter. In between, I got from Caesar that he is alright, but Leopard is not well –“

“So Caesar was in danger? Oh my God! I turn my back, and he gets into trouble! I must –“

Ulyxes unlocked the front door, ready to storm in, when just at this moment it was opened from the inside. Dorian came out, looking pale and exhausted when he went over to Klaus. He was followed by a tired Caesar. The third man, Leopard, looked as if he had just woken up from a nightmare.

Ulyxes hurried to Caesar and took him into his arms.

“You alright?”

Caesar merely nodded.

“Oh, I am so relieved! Listen, I have been a complete idiot. I’m so sorry! I overreacted. You are absolutely right, of course, what with my habilitation treatise and all.”

Caesar smiled.

“Oh well, perhaps I am too much of a schoolmaster, sometimes.”

“So – peace?” Ulyxes asked hopefully.

“Peace,” Caesar assured him.

“Can I – can I come back home again?”

“I’d be glad if you did.” Caesar kissed him. “But I’ve got to look after Leopard now, see to that he gets to a doctor. He needs me. We’ll talk later.”

He went over to Leopard, who stood together with Sugar Plum.

“I – I don’t know what came over me,” Leopard was just saying. He seemed to be shocked and horrified by his own actions. “I was so angry, felt so betrayed – by you all!”

“We never betrayed you, Leopard,” Sugar Plum answered. “It was you who cut the psychic bond. Caesar and I are your friends, and we’ll always be. But we are also Dorian’s friends. He is not your enemy.”

“If I only could believe this,” Leopard said, shaking his head. “But perhaps this Professor Lorenz can help me. He will see me today. Caesar arranged it.”

“Let’s go upstairs again,” Sugar Plum suggested. “When will this professor see you?”

“At nine.”

“Perhaps you want to sleep a little until then? And if you want, I’ll accompany you to Professor Lorenz,” Caesar offered.

“If you would do that –“Leopard looked grateful.

Caesar turned back to the others. 

“I suggest we all could do with some coffee. Oh, good morning Major Eberbach. And Mr -?

“Hawkeye,” the man with the scalpel offered, eyeing Caesar. “You have a most remarkable skull, my friend.”

Caesar chose to ignore the remark. Apparently, he had had enough exciting things happen to him for a long while. Unlike his partner, he did not wonder for a second what Klaus and the man with the scalpel, presented as a friend of Dorian, were doing at his front door. The Major, of course, was there because of Dorian. About the man with the scalpel he was not sure, but after that night, he no longer cared. With all the grace he could muster, he invited everyone back into his house.

All anger and aggressiveness had left Leopard – at least for the moment. Caesar prepared a room for him, while Ulyxes – his bad conscience still written on his face – made coffee for the guests. 

Klaus accepted a coffee, but he was not prepared to relax. He made a short phone call to Bonham, informing him that the immediate danger was over, then he kept close to Dorian. So did Hawkeye. He seemed to distrust Leopard as well. The strange doctor might be an obnoxious idiot, Klaus thought, but his instincts seemed alert.

Dorian, of course, noticed.

“You don’t trust him, do you?” he whispered, out of earshot from Caesar and Sugar Plum.

“Maybe at the moment he is genuinely sorry,” Klaus said in a low voice. “but pardon me for not having too much trust in someone who wrote poison e-mails, killed a dog, abducted a man, buried him alive and held another man hostage at gunpoint! Frankly, I’m just waiting for him to go berserk again!” 

Dorian sighed. 

“You’re possibly right. But I feel responsible for his state. I triggered the whole thing.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Caesar had come closer and joined into the conversation.

“I always thought he was the strongest of us – unperturbed, stoic, easygoing. Now I see this was not the case. You think you know a person – and then this. What happened on Island Gloria must have affected him more than I ever thought. And how – how could you two ever begin an affair?”

“Sometimes, things happen faster than you think,” Dorian said. “You are right. My behaviour was irresponsible, but of course I didn’t know he would take it to heart so much when I ended the affair. I am terribly sorry I hurt him! I just hope this friend of yours can help him.”

Caesar sighed. 

“It’s probably no good to berate you. You’re both grownups. Let’s hope for the best. Professor Lorenz is very good. And I trust Leopard is really willing to work with him.”

//I hope so,// Dorian thought. //For the sake of us all.// Aloud he said. “Good luck to him.”

Caesar nodded.

“And thank you, Dorian – for coming over. I think it helped to defuse the situation. I don’t know if I could have done it alone.”

Dorian shrugged.

“It could have backfired as well.”

//It was damn stupid! An idiot drama queen stunt!// Klaus thought, but he didn’t say anything. 

*****  
Hawkeye had offered to give Leopard a slight sedative, but the stuntman became upset again at the suggestion, so with obvious regret, the doctor put away his syringe. Seeing the threat removed, however, Leopard was so exhausted that he fell asleep on the sofa in the adjacent room.

An hour later, Caesar called a taxi and woke his friend. He gave Ulyxes a hug, then hugged Dorian and shook hands with Klaus and Hawkeye. Sugar Plum hugged Dorian as well, waved at the others; then they both left with a very subdued-looking Leopard.

Klaus consulted his watch. Exactly two minutes after the group had left; he went downstairs and hurried to Dorian’s car. Dorian followed without a word, Hawkeye behind him. Just before the car sped off, Ulyxes quickly slipped into the backseat. He kept his distance from the doctor.

“Great minds think alike,” Hawkeye remarked, and Dorian thought he was right. They all had silently agreed to make sure that the three friends reached their destination unharmed, without Leopard changing his mind, trying to escape and maybe becoming violent. 

The taxi was just taking a left turn at the next corner. There was more traffic here; the rush hour was in full swing. Klaus did not get too close, so Leopard and the others would not spot them by accident, but he managed well to keep the taxi in sight.

“Any idea where this Professor Lorenz lives?” he asked Ulyxes over his shoulder.

“I’m afraid not.”

Klaus shrugged. “Then we’ll see where they lead us.”

The taxi slowly left the city, and Klaus let Dorian’s car fall back a little as the traffic lessened. They drove in silence, while they reached the outskirts of London. Finally, the taxi pulled over and stopped at an iron-wrought gate. There was a supermarket on the opposite side of the road, and Klaus pulled into the parking lot. He parked the car strategically convenient, so they could watch the gate, but would not be seen easily by a driver coming out.

Hawkeye whistled through his teeth, looking over at the opposite side of the road .

“Nice little resort for burned-out tycoons behind that gate, from what I can see. – Alright, who wants a sandwich?” He made for getting out of the car.

“Stay in the car!” Klaus ordered sharply. “Wait until they’re inside!”

“Sure.” Hawkeye was miffed. “No need to yell at me.”

“You haven’t heard him yell yet, I assure you.” That was Dorian.

“Quiet!”

They saw Caesar leave the taxi, press a button at the gate, then apparently speak a few words into an intercom. The gate was opened; the taxi drove in and the gate closed again. 

“Security looks good,” Klaus commented curtly. “Solid gate, security cameras, high walls.” He took a small spyglass out of the glove compartment and zoomed in between the bars of the gate. “They’re getting out. Solid still looks calm. They’re entering a building. Huge mansion. Taxi’s waiting, so they won’t be too long.”

“Alright, I’ll get some sandwiches now.” Hawkeye slipped out of the car.

Klaus was right. After maybe twenty minutes he reported that Caesar and Sugar Plum left the mansion and came back to the taxi.

“Huh, just in time.” Hawkeye hopped back into the car with a bag, which he offered Dorian. “You should eat something, Goldilocks.”

“No, thank you, I’m not especially hungry.” Dorian shook his head.

Hawkeye shrugged and offered the bag to Klaus, who impatiently waved him off, then to Ulyxes, who first eyed the doctor, then the contents of the bag and gingerly took out an egg-and-cress sandwich.

“Good choice, they’re my favourites, too.” Hawkeye winked at Ulyxes and munched away happily. Ulyxes, who had been biting into his sandwich, stopped dead in his tracks.

The taxi exited the gate and turned towards the city. Klaus let it pass and took the road towards the city as well. 

They drove in silence, Ulyxes and Hawkeye munching their sandwiches. Apparently, Caesar’s lover had decided to not letting Hawkeye get to him again.

“Very well,” the doctor said after a while. “That seems to be it, then, for the time being. Would you mind a short stop at the nearest underground station? I can make my way back to a train station from there. Must make a short trip to Portsmouth and see what they’re up to on the Ivy Navy.”

“I thought you were on leave for the week?” Dorian asked.

Hawkeye swallowed the rest of his sandwich.

“Technically yes, but I can’t let the good people on this ship out of my sight for too long. They tend to develop the strangest illnesses when I’m away.” He clapped the gasping Ulyxes on the shoulder. “My mistake. Sorry about taking you for an intruder at your own house. - You have the most interesting ears, my friend.”

Klaus pulled up at an underground station.

“ Lord Gloria – Major –“ Hawkeye gave a nonchalant wave, jumped out of the car and vanished into the entrance of the station.

“What’s the matter with my ears?” Ulyxes asked, worried. Obviously Hawkeye had managed to irritate him again.

“Don’t mind him. That’s typical for Hawkeye. He makes as if he wanted your ears for his private collection, or he will tell you that you possibly won’t live very long, because you look anaemic, or something in this vein. He is a bit strange,” Dorian explained. “But if you know him, he’s not a bad sort.”

Ulyxes was not convinced. “I may not have the right priorities here, but this guy frightened me more than Leopard Solid,” he said a little shakily.

Klaus accelerated the car again. They drove further into town, Dorian directing Klaus to take a few shortcuts, so they would arrive earlier than the taxi with Caesar and Sugar Plum.

“You can drop me off here,” Ulyxes finally said, when they were a few streets down from where Caesar lived. “I’ll walk the rest. Had a short night, it’ll do me good, and Caesar doesn’t need to know that we followed them. – Oh, and Lord Gloria? Thanks for saving Caesar.”

“I didn’t save him,” Dorian said, shaking his head, but Ulyxes had already closed the car door, waved, and Klaus swerved into the traffic again. 

Dorian waved back, then closed his eyes and put his head on the headrest.

“What a night!”

“True.”

“Thank you, Klaus, for being there.”

They stopped at a traffic light. Klaus looked at him.

“You didn’t really expect me to sit at home twiddling my thumbs while you went off to face a mentally unstable guy without any weapon?! You know, if someone has your hide, it will be me!”

“Well, not exactly without any weapon, no. I got a knife, by the way, Darling!”

“Reassuring. - And I’m not quite sure if I shouldn’t kick your skinny ass!”

The traffic light changed to green. Klaus drove on.

//He is still angry with me. And it still turns me on. Blast!// Dorian thought. 

“Would you - would you have shot him, Klaus?” he asked aloud.

“If necessary.”

“Thank God this didn’t happen.”

Klaus said nothing.

“I can’t fully realize yet that the nightmare of the last months should finally be over,” Dorian continued. “And I still do not get Leopard. Why he wrote all these e-mails, killed Gucci, abducted James, threatened Caesar, and then suddenly broke down and regretted everything.”

“You kept saying it was unlike him.” Was he mistaken, or was there less of a growl in Klaus’s voice?

“It was! - And my strange dream – as if Toby had warned me from beyond the grave – and he never even liked James!” Dorian felt slightly relieved. Maybe …

Klaus drove on in silence. After a good while, he spoke again.

“Anyway – it was good you acted on your dream.” He pulled into a parking space, stalled the engine. “Hey, I never thought I would ever say something like that!”

He gave Dorian one of his rare smiles, and Dorian smiled back, relieved.

“You know,” he said when they left the car and went up to the house, “strangely enough, I’m no longer mad at Leopard. I just feel sad about him. And ashamed about the part I played. – How we can hurt other people, and what harm can come of it so much later – and – oh dear, Bonham and the others will be worried. I didn’t tell them that everything is alright!”

“I did,” Klaus said. 

Dorian stopped to smell at a bunch of lilac hanging over his neighbour’s wall. He sighed with relief.

“Thank you, Darling Major! Then I just dread having to convince James that it will be better not to sue Leopard. I fear it will cost me another Fabergé egg. But losing James would have been much, much worse.”

Klaus waited at the front door.

“You’re probably right. – Dorian -”

Dorian flinched a little.

“Yes, dear?”

“I can’t force you to trust me, but I would appreciate it damn well if you did!”

Dorian swallowed.

“I’m sorry. There is no excuse for my behaviour. I promise I will own up to everything I did – next time!”

Klaus looked at him grimly.

“I hope there won’t be any next time! And now stop apologizing, or I’ll box your ears!”

He opened the front door.

Bonham received them in the hall. He was beaming all over his round face at seeing both of them safe and sound. John-Paul and Jones had come to the door as well. Only James was nowhere to be seen.

Dorian took a deep breath. 

“I owe you all an apology. I endangered you all by not telling about my affair with Leopard, and if you are angry with me, I can well understand.”

“Ah, nonsense!” Bonham said. “It’s just a good fing to ‘ave you both back in one piece! You must be ‘ungry alroight. I prepared some breakfast.”

“Shit just happens,” Jones said, and John-Paul added: “He’s right. We all think so. Even James will come round, I’m sure of it. Don’t you worry, Milord.”

Dorian was moved and had to swallow a lump in his throat. He still was not especially hungry, but the smell of fried eggs, bacon and toast was really tempting.

“How is James, by the way?” he asked.

“Asleep loike a baby,” Bonham assured him

“But now we want to hear everything. What happened, Milord? Who would have thought that? Had he actually attacked Professor Gabriel now? What will happen to him? Is Professor Gabriel alright, too? Where is Solid?” Jones and John-Paul had a lot of questions when they all had settled round the kitchen table. Klaus had just said that everybody was alright, but he hadn’t given any details.

In brief words, Dorian now told them what had happened during the early hours of the morning, while he ate a small helping of fried egg on toast with a few slices of tomato, while Klaus finished his second plate with a lot of bacon.

“So Solid will get off the hook – just like that?” John-Paul asked. He sounded a little incredulous.

“There will be no harassment any more. He has agreed to see a specialist. So Professor Gabriel and I will not press charges. I’ll try to convince James as well not to sue.” Dorian explained.

“Damn, Solid should pay, actually!” Jones grumbled. John-Paul nodded grimly. 

“But ‘ow?” As usual, Bonham was the voice of reason. “What’s been done, ‘s been done. Oi fink lookin’ ahead’s the best fing.”

“Agreed,” Klaus remarked. “If he lets himself be treated and is no longer a bloody danger to himself and others, that will be a good thing.”

“Oi ‘ope that doctor will be able to ‘elp ‘im,” Bonham said.

“Absolutely,” Dorian agreed. “I hope so very much.”

He yawned. The events of the last afternoon, night, and morning finally caught up with him.

“I am just glad that everything is over.”

Bonham got up.

“Well, Oi’ll ‘ave a look at Jaimes. Don’t want ‘im to be alone when ‘e waikes up. ‘E seems to be well, but one never knows. ‘E moight still ‘ave nightmares.”

“I’ll come with you,” Dorian said. “And then I’ll go and lie down for a while. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep, but I just want to rest a bit.”

Dorian went up with Bonham to look in on James, who was fast asleep indeed, only dark curls mixed with grey were to be seen between the pillows. Gently, Dorian pushed them away to plant a kiss on the sleeping man’s cheek. James stirred a little, but did not wake up. 

Resolutely, Dorian pushed away the image of James in the coffin, gasping for air, clawing at the lid. He was glad that the little accountant slept peacefully. Only now it became clear to him how much he actually loved the man, as annoying as he could be sometimes. But James was James. Dorian hoped that his special “Jamesness” would help him recover, together with the prescription Hawkeye had made for him.

He left Bonham with James and went to his own bedroom. Klaus was already waiting. Gratefully, Dorian slipped into bed and into his lover’s arms. Klaus held him quietly. Lovemaking would be for later.

“Klaus?”

“Mmmmh?” Klaus murmured into his lover’s hair.

“Will you give my thanks to Bernhard for all his help with the e-mails?”

“You can do this yourself. He’ll come over to England for two weeks next month on holiday, and of course he wants to meet you,” Klaus answered.

“Splendid!” Dorian was excited. “I’ll finally meet your son! Oh, and I have an idea already how to thank him! Does he know Gilbert and Sullivan?”

Whom?”

“William Schwenck Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan. Composer and author of funny operas. Contemporaries of Richard Wagner. ‘The Mikado’ will be shown at the National Opera House –“

“Opera again?” Klaus sounded doubtful.

“Ah, you needn’t come with us, if you don’t want to, love. But I say it will be your loss!” Dorian yawned.

Klaus heard the smile in his lover’s voice. A few moments later, deep, regular breaths showed him that Dorian had fallen asleep.

//You damned fool had to go over there,// Klaus thought. //And you didn’t really trust me. Hope you learned something from the whole mess.// He knew, though, that he wouldn’t be able to hold this against Dorian any more. If he had learned anything from being with Dorian, it was that loving a person did not necessarily include that one understood this person’s every motivation.

He, too, must have slept for a while, when they both were wakened by a bloodcurdling scream. Klaus, immediately alert, grabbed his gun. Dorian, wild-eyed, jumped out of bed.

“What?! – What do you mean I won’t be able to sue him?! No, Milord can’t do this to me! I must have a word with him when he wakes up!”

Klaus and Dorian looked at each other. Dorian began to laugh and let himself fall back on the bed. Klaus put away the gun and smiled, when his lover pulled him into an embrace. 

Things were definitely going back to normal again.

THE END


End file.
